


Mirror, Mirror

by velcroboyfriends



Series: Mirror, Mirror [1]
Category: Actor RPF, The Hobbit RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Career, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Felching, Fingering, Frottage, M/M, Mirror Sex, Museum AU, Oral Sex, Performance Art, Riding, Rimming, mild exhibitionism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-01
Updated: 2015-09-13
Packaged: 2018-04-07 02:56:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 39,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4246824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/velcroboyfriends/pseuds/velcroboyfriends
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At just 25, Lee Pace is already a big name in the performance art world, and the showing of his piece "Mirror, Mirror" has come to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, where failed actor Richard Armitage is on the job as a security guard. When Richard is pulled in to guard Lee's piece, they find that they have more in common than it might appear.</p><p>A playlist in progress can be found at <a href="https://play.spotify.com/user/1258275809/playlist/1JMlKhgBqZOBKAU9m4bgRo">Spotify</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Standing Guard

When Richard had moved to New York City ten years ago, he'd had grand plans. He was twenty-three, fresh out of uni, and he'd just landed a fantastic part on Broadway, originating the lead in a new musical (god knew how, as his singing voice was nothing to phone home about and his dancing coltishly embarrassing). He'd gone Equity for it, moved across the ocean for it, thrown his life and soul into _North and South_ , but in the end it turned out that no one had wanted to see a musical about Victorian capitalism, even if it did have romance and corsets and a very innovative dance about cotton dust. His rubbish singing and dancing (although it had been good enough to get him the part, he supposed) probably played a part as well.

And it turned out, too, that going Equity, with all its restrictions, as a foreigner with no connections and no post-collegiate resume besides a musical that hadn't made it past previews, wasn't a recipe for getting a lot of acting work. He took other jobs, of course, had to if he wanted to keep his visa. He waited tables and sold cologne at department store counters to people who could drop what he made in a year on a bottle of champagne. He kept auditioning for a while, but when he had to work two or three jobs to keep up with rent on his embarrassingly shabby apartment, it was hard to keep up the search for a part.

Each week dragged and flew by simultaneously, weekend to weekend, job to job. Each month flew by, and each year, nose to the grindstone, and suddenly, it seemed, it was ten years later and Richard was gearing up in the security office for a job as a guard at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. As he clipped his walkie to his belt, he shook his head, wondering why he'd come to New York in the first place.

Richard had thought the cologne job was boring. He'd thought the rough month he'd spent spinning an arrow sign on a street corner was boring. He'd thought temping at a data entry office was boring. Now, two weeks into this new job, he felt like gripping his old selves by their shirt collars and laughing in their faces. He'd been placed in Decorative Arts, which at first had seemed nice, homey, with all the lovely old furniture. He'd spent his first hour wandering through, taking his time to really look at everything as he hadn't had the chance to do during training. His second hour had been spent doing his best to really, _really_ look at everything. By the time he'd been relieved for the day, he'd had enough looking-at-furniture to last him a lifetime.

Today, though, today was at least a little bit new - today he had a new assignment. No more Dec Arts for him: his past as an actor had pinged his boss' interest in choosing guards for a new performance art piece. Richard was to be guarding not an artwork, per se, but a _person_ , which made him feel a lot more like a part-time bodyguard than a museum guard. On his walk to Special Exhibitions, he hoped against all hope that this shift would be interesting - or, at least, not mind-numbingly boring.

A small square of 693 had been cleared out entirely for the exhibit and walled off from the rest of the room with a thick black curtain, the sort one would see in the wings of a theatre. It seemed like an area that he should have been urging patrons away from, all covered over, but a sign outside invited visitors to enter and gave the details of the piece: Lee Pace (b. 1979). _Mirror, Mirror_ , 2005. Performance art. Richard pushed the black curtain aside just enough to step through.

Once inside, he understood the point of the curtain: it was a black-out curtain. The only light in the little area was a small down spot in the center, the light creating a fuzzy, warm circle on the floor. Ambient light gave the area around the circle a bit of visibility, but in the margins of the room it was darkness, just barely light enough to get back out through the curtain. There was nothing else, no props, no furniture - just that circle of light to define the space.

The room seemed to be empty from Richard's vantage point by the curtain, but as he moved toward the circle of light, he saw a figure emerge from the shadows at a point opposite to him - a figure that moved in a strangely familiar way. He took another step in, craning his head forward to peer into the dim light, and the figure, too, took a step and craned its head, its barely-visible eyes squinting in a way that Richard had seen in sunlit photographs of himself. Richard shifted back with a tilt of his neck, and the figure did too.

"Mirror, Mirror" - there must be a mirror in the middle of the room, Richard assumed, and he took a few steps forward, the figure copying them, but as he and the figure reached the edges of the circle and enough light hit them both, he saw that it wasn't a reflection, it was... well, it was a glorified mirror exercise! He let out a slight huff of a laugh, and saw a look of realization come across the other man's face.

"Oh, you're the guard," the man said, a sheepish smile spreading across his face. He was a young guy, probably mid-twenties, with honestly terrifyingly bushy eyebrows and dimpled cheeks that old ladies probably lined up to pinch. And if someone were to give him a good haircut, he probably would have been the most handsome man Richard had ever seen. If he were asked, though, it was not this fact that caused him to respond only with a strange grunt and nod. It was his lack of experience on the job, and the social awkwardness that had plagued him since boyhood, certainly, not the little glimmer in the man's eye and the curve of his soft-looking lips and the fact that he was actually, somehow, _taller_ than Richard.

"I'm Lee, good to meet you." Lee reached out a hand to shake - ever polite in that American Midwest sort of way that Richard had become accustomed and then unaccustomed to in his time in New York - and Richard took it, gripping firmly.

"Richard," he answered, then said nothing more, simply standing there shaking Lee's hand until it became extremely clear how much longer than necessary that action had gone on. "Right, then," he said, extracting his hand and unconsciously brushing it off on the leg of his black trousers. "I s'pose I'll..." He wandered toward the far left corner of the room, where he figured he could stand in the shadows and keep an eye on things without being a distraction. "The museum opens in ten minutes," he added as Lee nodded and shrank back into the shadows from which he'd emerged. They remained silent for the rest of his shift.

\---

"Do you get bored?" Lee asked quietly. The sudden sound startled Richard, for the room they shared was normally stone quiet. Few patrons ever felt comfortable speaking during the mirror experience, so normally the several hours Lee and Richard spent in the performance area were silent ones. Lee hadn't spoken to him since Richard's first day working with him, and it took a second for Richard to clear his throat before responding.

"Here? No," Richard answered in a hushed tone. He was surprised to realize it was the truth, not just the sort of white lie one tells to friends after going to their experimental theatre pieces. When he'd begun to say the words, he'd intended them to be that sort of comforting, but after they came out, they rang with veracity.

"Really?" Lee responded, a laugh in his voice. Richard couldn't see him, but he knew the smile well enough, the one that had been seared upon his mind's eye since their first meeting. It was crooked, ever so slightly, but unabashed in a way that made Richard jealous. He'd never been able to wear an expression with that sort of ease. "I'd get bored, standing here for hours."

"Well, I used to, in the other wing, but..." Richard didn't want to say it, didn't want to admit how much the artist fascinated him, but he found himself nonetheless continuing, "You make it interesting." He was thankful, then, that he was shrouded in darkness, so that Lee couldn't see the flush working its way up his neck.

"Boring old me? Hardly." Lee's voice was slightly less hushed, now, and Richard looked to the slight lighted gap in the curtain.

"Should we be talking in here?" Richard asked in a low whisper. "Can't they hear us?"

"Not with these curtains," Lee assured him. "Trust me, I've done some experimenting with previous installations and... you can block out a good amount of sound with these things." This time there was a dark curl to his voice that made Richard's stomach twist in a way that was not unpleasant. He didn't want to know, _really_ didn't want to know, what sorts of sounds the guy was talking about.

Although he'd been granted license to talk, now, he didn't know what to follow that with, and so he simply stood still, watching the gap in the curtain carefully and hoping for a patron to enter and cut through the tension in that silence.

"What makes me interesting?" Lee asked after a moment.

"What, fishing for compliments now?" Richard meant it as a joke, sort of - he was rubbish at jokes, only knew one and it was awful - but a consequence of his voice was that everything tended to come out sounding harsher than he'd meant it. He heard Lee shift slightly.

"No, I really want to know. Honestly." Richard could tell the man meant it, and he took a breath.

"Honestly? I thought it was a gimmick at first. I thought you were taking an acting exercise and slapping an 'art' sticker on it." He'd watched the first few patrons Lee had interacted with, watched him mirror their movements and their body language, and scoffed. Here he was, ten years into a failed acting career, and this _kid_ was barely older than he'd been when he moved here and already a big enough name to get an exhibit at the Met, because he had a pretty face and a background in a field most people didn't understand.

"But I watched you, and... you don't just mirror people," Richard continued, "You _become_ them, you inhabit them. It's fascinating." In the past week he'd seen Lee bring people to laughter, to tears, to anger, by showing them _themselves_. He'd seen pairs of selves join hands, dance, even kiss once - he didn't want to think about what that said about the patron, especially when it had gotten so intense that he'd almost had to step in. "You leave yourself behind and put on these people. It's impressive, honestly."

Lee was silent for a moment, and Richard found his mind racing, wondering - had he said too much, been too flattering? Would Lee feel uncomfortable having him in here, ask for another guard? Would he think Richard was being insincere?

"Thank you," Lee said, simply, and then a bit of light poured in as a patron entered the room, and the two of them fell silent.

\---

Two weeks ago, the end of Richard's shift had always been a welcome relief, and he'd wanted nothing more than to shrug off his uniform and enjoy some time _not_ staring at furniture. He would count every milestone over the course of his shift: a third done, halfway done, half of that, half of that, and feel every second acutely as it ticked by. Whenever he caught sight of a patron, he longed for them to ask him anything, even just where the toilets were, something to break up the monotony.

But Lee's piece was different, ever changing. Each patron who walked in was a new experience for the two of them - for the three of them, really, usually with him as a silent bystander, but occasionally when he had to step in. Not every person liked having themselves shown to them, and Richard hadn't truly realized how much he was needed in the space until the first violent incident. They were few and far between, but even they brought interest to his life. And between patrons, they talked, sometimes, quietly - never about anything deep, really, just light chatter to pass the time, but it brought him happiness all the same.

Today's shift had been an especially beautiful one. Near the end of the showing, an old woman had come in, eighty years old most likely, a woman with the physicality of someone who was used to passing invisibly through the world. She'd nearly backed out of the space, confused and looking like a trespasser, until Lee had emerged from the shadows, soft and small and more vulnerable than Richard had ever seen him.

They'd locked eyes, the pair of them, and carefully approached one another, Lee echoing the stiff slowness of her movements with utmost patience. While New York was the sort of place to leave a woman like that behind in its dust, Lee took his time to truly see and become her, and she responded with a broad, teary smile.

"Hello," she'd said quietly, and Lee had echoed it in a small voice that, from someone with a lesser talent, would have sounded comical - but from his mouth, it sounded sincere. They'd giggled, the both of them, and stepped closer until they were close enough that they could join hands. They stood like that, for a moment, just seeing one another, and faintly Richard could hear two echoes of thanks given. They'd given one another's hands a gentle squeeze, wiped a tear each, and then, slowly, carefully, vanished back into the shadows from whence they'd come.

Now, as it came time to return his walkie to the security office, Rich found himself with feet dragging, not wanting to leave. He went slowly to the door leading out of the museum, but as much as he'd lagged, he found Lee still standing there, not having left yet. Lee gave him a shy smile and a wave.

"Heading out?" Lee asked, and Richard nodded with a casual wave as he walked past him. But Lee followed, taking a few long strides to catch up with Richard as he strolled down the sidewalk. "Been a long day," he said, and he sounded it - looked it, too, the furrow in his brow deeper than usual. "It'll be great to get home and decompress, huh?"

Richard was surprised the man was bothering to talk to him - Lee was an award-winning artist (he'd done some Googling on his time off, and the man's prior work was impressive to say the least) and he was just some guard who'd been tasked with... well, with watching him. He doubted most artists bothered to talk to the guards - of course, most artists spent very little time in the museum.

"I know what you mean," Richard said. "Living in someone else's skin... it can be exhausting." He remembered coming home from the theatre and having Thornton still in his bones, tensing his muscles. He'd probably been responsible for a huge upswing in IcyHot stock in those days.

"Wait," Lee said, peering over at Richard as they walked. "Are you an actor?" He looked excited at the prospect, strangely.

"I... was, is more like it." Richard's voice came out low and soft with disappointment. "I don't work much anymore. Obviously." He gestured to the security badge that hung around his neck.

"That's too bad," Lee said as they headed, still together, toward 86th Street. At least, Richard thought, this guy wasn't too good to ride the subway like the rest of them. Or he was smart enough to realize that trying to drive in the city was a fool's errand. The autumn air was chilly, the sun already sinking toward the horizon. "You do have the voice for it."

"The voice isn't enough, I suppose," Richard said ruefully, tucking his hands deep into his pockets as he looked left, away from Lee and into the glorious foliage of the park. His route from museum to subway always stayed near the park as long as possible, so that at least he had something lovely to look at before and after his shifts. Even in winter it was beautiful, and in autumn it was stunning.

"I used to do stage work, in college. I was going to be a Theatre major. Then I got the art bug." Lee laughed slightly. "I went to my friend's show, a performance art thing, and I thought... damn, I could do better than that. I guess it sounds egotistical or something," he continued with a shake of his head, "But when I got home that night I had a million ideas swimming around, I just couldn't let it go. Dropped one useless major for another, huh?" He laughed again, in a way that Richard was starting to realize was self-deprecating - a familiar tone he'd heard in his own voice time and again.

"Art's not useless," Richard said, looking back at Lee, at that sun-shaming smile. "Anyway, you made it, didn't you?" It was more than Richard could say for himself.

"Did I?" Lee's smile turned in on itself, into a look that was far from unabashed. "I guess."

"You're showing at the bloody _Met_ ," Richard insisted, laying a hand to Lee's shoulder. Even through the thick wool jumper the man was wearing, he could feel the warmth of Lee's body, and he withdrew his hand quickly. Lee paused midstride, glancing over at Richard with a look that seemed nervous for a split second before he broke out into another of his trademark smiles.

"Hey, I was gonna grab a tea before I head home, do you wanna come with?" he asked, gesturing at a cafe they were about to pass. "I'd like the company."

"Ah, sure," Richard said, shoving his hand back into his pocket with a shrug. "I s'pose I've got the time."

"Great," Lee said, and headed toward the cafe. "My treat," he added, over his shoulder, and Richard began to wonder what the hell this was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, this does take place in 2005. The main reason for this was to make Richard's period of stagnation less lengthy/more believable.
> 
> I really know very little about museum guarding, Actor's Equity, performance art, New York City and gay sex. So take what I write with a grain of salt <3
> 
> I'm on tumblr at velcroboyfriends.


	2. An Empty Bottle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After their outing, Richard is unsure what to expect from Lee.

"I'm gonna grab a tea" had turned into "I guess I could use a snack" had turned into basically having dinner together at that cafe, talking for well over an hour about anything and everything - mostly acting, and their experiences with it at uni, and the joy of becoming another person, but other things, too. Philosophy, books, films, ideas - they'd covered a vast range, and Richard had been astounded throughout the evening at how much they had in common, two people who might at first glance seem so different.

They'd walked together to the subway, where Lee had branched off (he was downtown, Richard up) with a surprising amount of hesitation. They'd stood at the subway stop for a truly ridiculous amount of time, not wanting to stop talking - but by the time it hit seven, Richard finally managed to pry himself away and down the stairs into the station to head home.

Richard's flat was tiny, and in a rough part of town, but he was glad to at least be able to have a place to himself. He'd gone down the roommate route his first few years in New York - had to, really, especially when he was still trying to work as an actor. But he was a bearcat when he got home at the end of a long day, and terribly untidy, and generally made whomever he lived with miserable (and vice-versa), so he'd gotten out the moment he could. Now he had his own space that he could keep as messy as he wanted and be alone in.

Richard tossed his security badge and keys into a bowl by the door before crossing to the couch and flopping down ungracefully onto it. Resting his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands, he stared at the blank TV screen, at his unfocused reflection in it. He sighed, shook his head and stretched back, cradling his head in his hands and leaning back against the couch to stare at the ceiling instead.

What had that _been_? Perhaps it had just been a friendly coffee-turned-dinner, a platonic connection over shared interests and good conversational compatibility. Perhaps Lee had wanted to get to know Richard better, if he was supposed to trust him for the rest of the run of his piece, perhaps he felt more comfortable being guarded by someone he knew on a friendly basis. 

Or perhaps it had been something more.

Richard rubbed his fingers across his eyes, then down his face, then brought them together in front of his lips in a gesture that might have looked prayerful, rather than contemplative, were he the sort to ever feel prayerful. His lips felt tingly just from the pressure of his fingers against them, and that tingle continued down through his body as he thought about Lee's lips, the pink curve of them, how he was sure they would be soft and pliant to the touch. It curled in his stomach, the thought, made his body tighten.

"Fuck," he muttered, and got up to take a shower.

\---

The next morning, Richard showed up to the exhibit unsure of how to act. He hurried through the process of gearing up and checking in, and practically jogged to 693, not wanting to wait to find out what this next day would bring. But when he entered the space, Lee was doing his usual warm-up, stretching and breathing, and he didn't want to interrupt the guy's process, so he meandered over into his usual corner.

"Hey," Lee said simply, when he was done warming up, and headed to the far wall, and that was that. They chatted a bit between patrons, like they always did, but nothing seemed to have changed. That seemed to settle the issue - clearly, Lee just wanted to get to know him a little better, as friends. It would have been fine, if Lee's smile and hair and hands didn't invade his every thought when he was sitting around at home after work. He was well and rightly fucked, was the thing.

The next day was normal again, and the day after that, and before Richard knew it, the week was up, and everything was the same as it had been before the cafe. Today, though, when he went to the exit door, Lee was waiting again, with an expectant sort of face that Richard just had to stop for.

"Hey," Lee said, "So some of my art-world friends convinced me to go out with them tonight, and... I don't know, this might be weird, but I could use someone there who's, you know, more subdued, and..." He huffed, shaking his head. "Do you want to go? We don't have to stay long if you don't want to, I just have to make an appearance, and I thought... I would like the company."

He had that sheepish smile on again, that smile that sort of made Richard's knees go a little weak. He kept his face stoic, though, and nodded.

"All right," he said, not sure if it actually would be - the idea of hanging out with a bunch of 'art-world friends' of a man he really didn't know that well sounded a little questionable - but he had to give it a chance, didn't he? If he didn't, he knew he'd spend the rest of the night wondering. "I'll go with you."

This felt even more surreal than being asked for coffee - was he really going to go out on the town with a bunch of artists? He hardly felt qualified. But at least he'd already been given permission to dip out early if it wasn't going well, and if it did happen to go well... that was worth the risk. He was ready to head out until he looked down at what he was wearing and scoffed.

"I'd better change first, hadn't I?" Richard said, a wry twist to his mouth. "I'll go home, and then I'll... meet you there?" The prospect made him feel a bit squeamish, going to a bar or a club or wherever they were headed on his own. Lee's friends would think him odd, showing up out of the blue, wouldn't they?

"I'll go with you," Lee said, and Richard felt an instant sense of relief. "No point heading off by myself when that's the whole reason I don't want to go."

"Well, ah," Richard said, starting off toward the subway stop, "Off we go, then." He couldn't have imagined anything more surreal than taking Lee to his home, but his life was nothing if not strange.

\---

The relief Richard had felt at not having to meet up with Lee on his own was instantly replaced with a sense of terror when they arrived at the door to his flat. He could hardly remember the last time he'd done a proper cleaning of the place, and he knew for a fact that the dirty dishes around the place outnumbered those in the sink - and that was a feat in itself. He unlocked the door and opened it slightly, then turned around to face Lee and block him from entering.

"Give me a couple minutes, will you?" he said, the words coming out hasty and messy. "I need to get everything sorted -" Lee pushed right past him.

"Don't worry about it," Lee said breezily as he strode into the flat, "No judgments here." But as Lee looked around, Richard knew that statement would end up being false - and right on cue, Lee let out a chuff of a laugh. "Shit, you were right," he said, in a tone that sounded almost amazed at the level of mess one man could achieve. "I mean, it's... I've seen..." He tried to correct himself, but Richard could tell he was floundering.

"That's all right," he said briskly, gathering up a handful of dirty dishes to deposit into the overflowing sink, "No offense taken." Richard headed into his bedroom to change, hoping to keep it quick so that, perhaps, Lee wouldn't absorb the full extent of the mess. As he shrugged out of his black jacket and pulled off his necktie, he heard Lee shuffling around, probably looking about and getting more disgusted by the second.

"You've got a lot of plays," Lee called from the other room. He heard the sliding of books being moved across the shelf. " _The Normal Heart_ \- good one," he added.

"Kramer's a little preachy for me," Richard called back, unbuttoning his white button-up and sliding on a more casual blue one. "But it's an important work."

"I love Larry Kramer," Lee insisted, his voice closer now, but moving to the right, as if he were wandering into the kitchen - oh, dear.

"Don't go in the kitchen, it's a mess," Richard warned as he stepped out of his dress pants and grabbed a pair of jeans still piled on the floor from having been taken off the other day. He pulled them up quickly, zipped up, buckled the belt still threaded through the loops, then went out to the kitchen to assess the damage.

"This is _really_ nice stuff," Lee said, stepping out of the kitchen. He was holding a bottle of pinot noir, something Richard had treated himself to after getting his new job. He hadn't found quite the occasion to drink it - well, until now, he hadn't.

"You want some?" Richard asked. Normally he wasn't generous with his booze - what he bought was his. He couldn't afford to be generous, even if he wanted to. It was more like his budget gave him an excuse to keep every bottle to himself. But the way Lee held the bottle, like it was something precious, was evidence of yet more common ground between the two of them, and for once, Richard felt like sharing the experience with another person.

"I'd love some," Lee said, and Richard felt that curl in his stomach again as the man's face spread into a smile.

\---

Too many glasses later, Lee was sitting with Richard on his couch, laughing loud and unabashedly. The two of them had their feet propped on the so-called coffee table Richard had scrounged at a thrift shop and were leaning back, their upper bodies slightly angled toward one another - just to facilitate talking, Richard was sure. He held his wine glass in his lap, while Lee had his rested on the arm of the couch, his fingers holding onto it just enough that it didn't topple onto the floor.

"You _didn't_ ," Lee said, his face a mask of amused disbelief.

"I did indeed," Richard said with a shake of his head and a smile wider than any he'd worn in ages. The wine had flushed his face pink, and he was sure he looked a sight, but he didn't care, because he had Lee Pace on his couch, beaming at him.

"That is the best thing I've ever heard," Lee said, although Richard was sure the wine had brought his anecdote up many undeserved notches. Plenty of people had quit jobs in more interesting ways, he was sure.

"Perhaps I've missed my calling in life. I should have forgotten about theatre and gone into professional pranking." Richard took another sip of his wine, then leaned his head back against the couch. There was silence for a moment as he traced the tips of his free fingers around the rim of the wine glass.

"What brought you here?" Lee asked quietly, breaking the silence. "To New York?"

"A show," Richard said simply, hoping Lee wouldn't prod further. The last thing he needed was a reminder of how stupid it had been to leave England - and how much stupider it had been not to return when things hadn't worked out.

"What show was it? It had to have been good to get you here, right?"

"Well, it was Broadway. This period piece musical, did horribly. Turns out no one's interested in a Victorian cotton manufacturer, even if you add singing and dancing," Richard said with a sigh.

"Wait," Lee said, turning his head fully to study Richard's face. "Was it... it wasn't _North and South_ , was it?" Richard turned in surprise, nearly spilling his wine.

"Yes, yes, it was."

"Oh my god," Lee said, his eyes wider than Richard thought possible. The man sat up, pulling his feet off the table to turn his whole body toward Richard. "I thought your voice sounded familiar! You were the original John Thornton, weren't you?" Richard sat up as well, setting his glass down on the table.

"You saw _North and South_?" It was hard to believe that Lee could have seen the show. He would have been in high school then, which really made Richard feel old.

"No, but I listened to the cast recording," Lee said, his face practically glowing with excitement. "I loved the music, and... your voice, I had _dreams_ about that voice." He looked embarrassed, suddenly, and Richard wondered if it was the wine flushing his cheeks or something else. "Shit, I shouldn't have said that," he said with a nervous laugh, and his eyes flicked, barely perceptibly, down to Richard's lips.

Richard didn't know what took over him, then, if it was the wine or Lee's admission or just the fact that someone had liked - _loved_ \- the one thing he'd ever been truly proud of doing. Whatever it was, it seized him, made him brave and stupid in equal measure, made time speed up and slow down at the same time as he leaned toward Lee and placed a gentle hand on his cheek.

It was a soft kiss, the first one, gentle and slow, just a single, lingering press of lips, warm and soft. When their lips separated, Richard pulled back just a little, just enough to see the look of pleased astonishment on Lee's face.

"Oh," Lee said, "Hi," and he set his wine glass down on the table, never breaking eye contact, wrapped his newly free hand around the back of Richard's neck, and pulled him in again.

The second kiss was impassioned where the first had been soft, sloppy from the mixture of wine and enthusiasm. Lee laughed against Richard's lips, then made a hum of contentment when Richard caught Lee's lower lip delicately between his teeth, laving his tongue over the softness. Richard felt determined to wring all the possible sounds he could out of this man. The hand on Richard's neck scraped up through his hair and latched on, and Richard moaned low, rumbling, into Lee's mouth as he tugged on the short strands.

"Oh my god," Lee mumbled, pulling back to mouth at Richard's jaw, then lower, to his throat, where he nipped and sucked and drew all sorts of noises out of Richard, and with every sound, it seemed that Lee grew more insistent, until Richard had to pull him away and back up to his mouth if he didn't want his entire neck to be a mass of purple.

Richard surged forward into the kiss until Lee was leaned as far back as a ridiculously tall man could feasibly be on this couch, and when he shifted to align their bodies and their hips slotted together, he could feel that Lee was as hard as he was, their cocks pressing together through the layers of fabric between them. He gave a little roll of his hips and Lee whined, tugging at his hair again with one hand and snaking the other down to fumble with Richard's belt.

"Wait," Richard said, and it took every ounce of will power he still possessed to stay Lee's hand with his own, pulling back to look into the other man's face. "You're drunk."

"So are you," Lee returned, gently mocking.

"I know," Richard said, shaking his head. He thought about sitting up, not having this conversation whilst lying atop Lee, but his will power only went so far. "We should... this should wait."

"I wanted this sober," Lee insisted, "I wanted this from the first day."

"So did I," Richard said, "And if we do this now, it'll be fast and messy and complete rubbish, and that's not what I want. Do you?" Lee sighed and shook his head, smiling ruefully.

"You're right, totally right," he said, moving his hands to loop around Richard's neck instead. "I wish you weren't."

"Me too," Richard said, moving his lips to brush along Lee's jaw. He stilled for a moment, remembering. "We were supposed to go out. With your friends." He struggled to extract his left hand from where it was buried under the small of Lee's back. "What time is it?"

"I don't care," Lee protested, turning his body slightly to the right to pin Richard's hand against the couch. "They can have fun without us." He traced his mouth over one of the several marks blooming on Richard's neck, and Richard trembled, any thought of their prior plans vanishing from his mind. The movement of Lee's lips was soothing, and he found his eyes drifting closed of their own accord.

"We should go to bed," Richard mumbled, feeling the drowsiness of too much wine settling in his bones. "If you want to stay, that is," he added.

"Of course I want to stay," Lee responded, running a hand along the curve of Richard's back. It was soothing, and Richard felt his limbs growing heavier. "You do have an actual bed, right?" The question startled Richard into wakefulness, and he shot Lee a look that was met only with a trademark beatific smile.

"Come on, then," Richard said, lugging himself heavily to his feet. He helped Lee up, guided him back to the bedroom, where he picked a careful path amidst the junk cluttering the floor. "Careful, now," he warned with gritted teeth, just after he stepped on a particularly sharp book corner.

They stripped their clothes from themselves with a shyness unbefitting of the fire that had burned between them just a minute before, and Richard slipped quickly under the sheets once he was down to his boxers. Once finished, Lee curled up close to him, pressing one more kiss to Richard's lips. Richard wrapped his arms around the man's slender waist, his fingers coming to rest in the dip of his spine.

"Tomorrow," Lee murmured, laying an arm across Richard's middle and tangling their legs together.

"Tomorrow," Richard repeated, and, faster than he had in years, he slipped into peaceful sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally I'd intended another segment before the wine night, but sometimes the characters run away from you. Sorry I'm not sorry~
> 
> I'm on Tumblr at velcroboyfriends.


	3. The Morning Of

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's porn, you guys. Not much else to say.

Something was tickling Richard's shoulder. He'd been in the peace of dreaming, soft and warm and enveloped in a way he didn't normally feel in this bed, but the soft movements against his shoulder roused him from sleep. He tried to lift his hand to brush it away, but found his fingers tangled up, and when he turned his head up to look at his shoulder, he saw not some pest, but a face he'd never expected to see in his bed. Oh. Right.

Richard made a low hum of contentment as he realized he was wrapped in Lee's arms, his back to Lee's chest, their bodies a perfect fit together, like two puzzle pieces. He snuggled back against him as Lee's kisses moved up his shoulder, and felt the distinct pressure of the other man's cock hard against him.

"Someone's up," Richard mumbled, his voice low and rough from sleep. A little shudder ran through Lee's body, and the other man pulled them tighter together, his soft kisses to Richard's flesh turning less gentle.

"Good morning," Lee answered softly, his right hand untangling from where it was clasped with Richard's to wander lower, his fingers brushing along Richard's stomach and hip before running teasingly up his cock, the touch perhaps even more delicious through the cotton fabric of his boxers. Richard's soft moan was echoed by one of Lee's, and the man slipped his hand under the elastic of the waistband to wrap around the shaft.

"You're not wasting time," Richard gasped out, arching into Lee's touch.

"You made me wait all night," Lee insisted, his hand traveling back and forth in slow, soft strokes, barely there. "I'm much nicer," he added, firming up his grip but keeping the tempo unhurried. Richard angled his head back to find Lee's lips and press his own to them, contorting his right arm around to thread his fingers through the other man's hair.

The kiss was just as unhurried as Lee's strokes; sober and sleepy, Richard had the patience now to take it slow, his tongue making gentle exploratory moves into the other man's mouth. He tasted of wine and sleep, and Richard was sure he did as well, but it didn't bother him, not now, not when Lee's thumb brushed over the head of his cock and his moan was again echoed by Lee's.

"You aren't mirroring me, are you?" Richard pulled back to ask, a lazy smile across his face. Lee shook his head, biting his lip, and his strokes began to speed up, get rougher. Lee's hips rocked against him. Richard groaned at an especially good movement of the other man's hand, and Lee let out a rasp of breath, his eyes squeezing shut. Richard tilted his head, examining the other man's face. He moaned low again the next time the impulse struck him, not just in pleasure but in experiment, and sure enough, Lee's cock and hand twitched simultaneously. Richard grinned and rolled over to face him.

"My voice turns you on," he said, lifting his left hand to run a thumb across Lee's lower lip. The man gasped and nodded.

"I said I had dreams about it." Lee's eyes looked guilty and wicked in equal measure. He turned his head slightly to catch the tip of Richard's thumb between his lips, swirling the tip of his tongue along the pad of it. Richard was just thinking how much he would love to see those lips wrapped around something else when Lee, seeming to read his mind, pulled away to kiss at Richard's throat, then his chest, then his stomach, moving gracefully down the bed and tugging Richard's boxers off his legs along the way. Richard slid himself up along the sheets, rolling to lie flat on his back, and Lee settled himself between the foot of the bed and the curve of Richard's open legs.

"Fuck," Richard gasped out, the word drawn-out and broken, as Lee leaned down to trace the vein of Richard's cock with his tongue, ending with a curl along the head. He traced another line up just next to it, and another, systematically, and another, until Richard couldn't bear it any longer. "Fuck, _please_ ," he whined, and felt the coolness of air on wet skin when Lee breathed in hard.

Lee's eyes turned fully wicked, then, a smile stretching across the man's face as he moved away to nip at the skin of Richard's inner thigh, just inches away from where Richard wanted him, and Richard grumbled wordlessly low in his throat.

"Please," Richard repeated, his hips twitching upward in search of a touch that would not be granted.

"Please what?" Lee asked, looking up to lock eyes, a crooked grin across his lips. Richard understood, then, and although he was normally shy about really asking for what he wanted, he couldn't deny the gorgeous man who was looking at him like _that_.

"Please... I want your mouth, I want... you to suck my cock," Richard said, the last few words coming out fast to beat the fear of saying them. The phrase felt foreign in his mouth, but it felt good to say, and even better when he saw the way Lee's whole body curled at the sound of his voice.

"Why didn't you say so?" Lee answered back, his teasing tone belied by the breathlessness of his voice. He wrapped a graceful hand around the base of Richard's cock, and as he lowered his lips to it, finally enveloping the tip within the heat of his mouth, Richard tilted his hips up, needing more. He groaned softly as Lee's head began to bob up and down, the suction of his mouth wet and warm, and his tongue flicking back and forth with every pass.

Lee rewarded every sound with more, speeding the rhythm of his hand or his mouth, or swirling his tongue, and soon Richard was well trained, voicing his appreciation at every move, his speech a quiet litany of swearing and pleading and praising and babbling. He reached down to wrap his fingers in the other man's hair, and to his surprise, Lee pulled his hand off to balance himself on the bed, letting Richard's cock slip deeper and deeper into his mouth.

"God, you're amazing," Richard keened as the man took more and more of him, and when Lee took a deep breath in through his nose and then dove down to bottom out, he was stunned silent. The air stood still for a moment as Lee looked up to meet his eyes and swallowed, contorting his throat around his cock, and then simultaneously Richard let out something that was more like a sob than a groan and Lee pulled off all the way, breathing in deeply. He was bowing his head, about to jump back in, when Richard stopped him, tightening his numb-feeling fingers in Lee's hair to hold him back.

"If you keep going," Richard said, drawing again on a surprising amount of will power, "This will be over far too fast." He let go of Lee's hair, tracing a finger along the man's swollen, spit-slick lips. "And I had my heart set on fucking you."

"You're not so shy now," Lee said with a grin, still out of breath, and Richard supposed that a good working-up was really what it took to loosen his lips. Or perhaps it was the effect his words had on Lee, making Richard feel almost sexy for once in his life.

"You're a bad influence," Richard said, leaning over to the drawer in his makeshift nightstand to grab lube and a condom as Lee crawled up the bed. Setting down the bottle and packet for a second, he took the opportunity to kiss Lee again, more forcefully this time, catching the other man's swollen lip between his teeth on the way back. He moved down the bed, now, admiring the pale freckled skin spread out before him. He divested Lee of what remained of his clothing, and couldn't help brushing his lips over the man's cock when it sprang free.

Richard ran his hands down the insides of Lee's thighs, then pushed them back and up, exposing him completely, and leaned in to give his entrance a light flick with his tongue. Above him, Lee sighed in approval, and he took a teasing second before moving forward again to run the flat of his tongue across it properly. Lee groaned at that, canting his hips up even further.

Richard was no tease, really - it wasn't in his blood - and he dove into this new task with gusto, tracing his tongue in circles and lines until he felt the taut muscle begin to relax. He dipped in ever so slightly, and Lee clutched at his hair, tugging, making Richard moan, the sound vibrating through his mouth and into Lee's flesh.

"Oh, fuck," Lee gasped at that, and then again, " _Fuck_ ," when Richard slipped his tongue in deeper, delving and exploring, finding what motions made Lee's thighs tighten under his hands and repeating them until he got exactly the reactions he wanted. He hadn't done this, hadn't known someone this intimately, in so long, and he took the time to savor that feeling of innovation, like he was discovering something brand new.

When he removed one hand from Lee's thigh, the man laid his leg down along Richard's back, his heel digging at his spine in a way which in any other circumstance would have been uncomfortable, but which in this context seemed like a compliment. He took his mouth away for a second, and Lee whined, scratching his fingers through Richard's hair, but when he wrapped his lips around the first two fingers of his free hand, looking up to make eye contact with Lee, the man fell silent, licking his reddened lips.

Richard kept his eyes locked with Lee's as he just barely touched his entrance with the tip of his finger, waiting for the muscle to relax slightly before he pressed in, slow, watching Lee's eyes widen and mouth fall open. He nuzzled at Lee's thigh as he pulled back out, crooking his finger just a little, his gaze locked on the other man's face. Just before the digit popped free, he eased it forward again, and back and forth, increasing the tempo until Lee was squirming under him.

"More," Lee groaned out, "Please," and Richard was only happy to oblige, sliding a second finger in to join the first, keeping the rhythm steady. He angled his fingers up, crooking them on each outward pull, varying the pressure of his hand until he hit a spot that made Lee arch back. He added a third finger, the muscles relaxed enough that it was no struggle, and Lee groaned out, reaching down to grab the hand that rested on his thigh and squeezing hard.

"Oh my _god_ , fuck me." Richard didn't need to be asked twice, and he pulled his fingers out, eliciting a whine from the other man, and crawled up the bed to hover over Lee. He grabbed the condom packet and sat up on his knees, tearing the foil open and rolling the latex over his cock as quickly as he could. He grabbed the bottle of lube and drizzled some into his palm to slick himself up even more. Lee watched him hungrily, running a hand over Richard's side while he readied himself.

When Richard moved forward to press his lips to Lee's again, the man arched his hips up to meet Richard's own, shuddering as his cock ran over the cleft of his ass. Lee reached down to guide with his hand as Richard pressed in slowly, resting his forehead on Lee's. They moaned together, echoing and echoed by one another at once, as he breached that first ring of muscle and sank into tight heat.

Lee clutched at the sides of Richard's face, staring into his eyes with a fierce intensity as Richard began to pivot his hips slowly, rocking in and out with gentle strokes. It was too much, the combination of it all, and Richard broke the man's gaze to lean in and press their mouths together, an unfocused, desperate slide of lips and teeth and tongue. Lee twisted under him, canting upward to meet each thrust, and Richard moved a hand down to grip Lee's hip and feel the sinuous motion there.

"More," Lee mumbled against Richard's mouth, and he began to deepen each thrust, pulling out more before he sank back in, still keeping the tempo unhurried. They had time, here, time to enjoy one another, and Richard was going to feel every second of it. Lee was impatient, though, and he whined, moving his hands down Richard's back to his ass, urging him forward.

"Easy, now." Richard's voice was soft and low, a quiet growl of sound, and he felt Lee's body curl in on itself, his muscles tightening. He moved the hand on Lee's hip to the man's thigh, pushing back to raise his leg and change the angle, and Lee groaned out, dragging his fingers up Richard's back. He wrapped his other leg around Richard's waist, and with the Lee's arms and legs all around him, Richard felt like he could dissolve into this man.

He began to move faster, now, his self-control ebbing away with each thrust, and he moved his lips down Lee's jaw, nipping and sucking at the flesh deliciously salty with sweat. Lee moaned softly with each roll of his hips, gripping at his back tighter, and it urged Richard on further. Richard clenched his hand into the soft flesh of Lee's thigh and bit down on his surprisingly delicate collarbone. When Lee tilted his hips to shift the angle, Richard angled his hips up as well, and Lee tightened around him.

"Fuck, right _there_ ," Lee cried out, clutching at Richard's shoulders in desperation. When Richard lifted his head from Lee's chest to look at his face, the man's expression was a mixture of pleasure and overwhelmed astonishment, and Richard thrust at that same angle again and again, hoping to keep that look on him forever. "There," Lee babbled, "Oh my god, Richard, that's - fuck, _fuck_."

"You look so amazing like this," Richard murmured, pitching his voice at that low rumble that made Lee's gaze grow even more desperate. He really did, all flushed, freckled skin and swollen lips, his muscles twisting and contorting in beautiful arcs of motion. Richard kept talking, the words pouring out without shame. The words didn't necessarily fit together, but they seemed to do their job all the same, Lee's hips rocking upward with more and more urgency.

"I bet you could come just like this," Richard groaned into Lee's ear as he picked up the pace even more, hearing the delicious slap of skin as their hips collided. "I wouldn't even have to touch your cock, would I?" Lee shook his head, swallowing hard.

"I'm so close," the man whimpered, the last word barely making it out of his mouth before it morphed into a drawn-out moan. Richard locked eyes with Lee once more, pressing their foreheads together. He lifted his hand from Lee's thigh to cradle his cheek, the delicacy of that motion belying the rough thrusts of their hips.

"Then come on, darling," he growled, "Come for me." Lee went silent, then, and still, his entire body tensing as his cock jumped where it was pressed between them, and Richard felt rather than saw the warm stripes of come painting their stomachs. He was clenched around Richard impossibly tight, and Richard thrust even harder, now, messy, chasing down completion.

Just as Lee took a gasp of air in, past the peak of climax, Richard hit the peak himself, burying his face in the crook of Lee's neck. Lee's arms wrapped around him tight as Richard stilled, the world ebbing away for a moment as he came harder than he'd done in ages, no sound in the room but the blood thrumming in his ears. The moment seemed as if it would stretch on into infinity until it was over, and he was back again, panting with his ears ringing. He lay there for a moment, memorizing the feel of Lee wrapped around him, the skin of their torsos pressed together, sweaty and sticky and perfect.

"Fuck," he mumbled, and Lee echoed it.

"Fuck."


	4. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richard finds himself even more confused about what this is.

Once Richard had taken a moment to catch his breath, he pulled out slowly, carefully. Lee made a soft noise of protest as he became unfilled, and Richard smoothed a hand over his forehead before getting up to tie off the condom and toss it in the bin. The air on his stomach was cool where it was striped with beads of come. Richard ran his fingers through it, turning to face the bed again before licking them clean. Lee hummed in appreciation, and when Richard reached the bed again, he leaned over the other man to run his tongue over the gently curved surface of his stomach and lap up the sticky remains.

"We should get cleaned up," Lee mumbled, reaching down to ruffle a hand through Richard's hair.

"So demanding." Richard shook his head and grinned. When he tried to crawl back into bed, Lee nudged at him insistently until he gave in. "Oh, all right," he said and rose back to his feet, reaching a proper, gentlemanly hand out to Lee. The other man took it with humorous grace as he pulled himself up to shaky legs.

The bathroom, at least, wasn't too appalling. Richard was _messy_ , not filthy, and he kept the room clean, if not tidy. He was thankful for this as he led Lee down the hall and through the door. He leaned into the little glass cubicle of the shower to turn on the water, then stood back up straight with a little cry of surprise when he felt a light thwack on his ass. When he turned around with a mockingly dour look, Lee was _giggling_ , no less, and that unabashed smile melted Richard a little inside.

"You are a _child_ ," he said, continuing to face Lee as he reached his hand back to check the temperature of the water.

"That's what you get, robbing the cradle," Lee drawled, stepping forward to back Richard up against the closed half of the glass wall. He kissed him, a filthy slide of lips, and Richard sighed and laid down his hands on the ledge of the other man's hips.

"I thought we were getting cleaned up," Richard mumbled against Lee's mouth, and after a moment more, Lee stepped back just enough to nudge Richard into the shower's spray, which had fortunately warmed up. "Come on, then," Richard beckoned, and Lee stepped in too, sliding the glass door closed behind him.

The shower was small enough for one ridiculously tall man, but with both of them in there, it was barely manageable. Richard didn't mind, though, not when it gave him an excuse to press up against Lee and run his fingers over the water-slick skin. The combination of the warm spray of water at his back and Lee's body heat at his front made the experience feel comforting rather than claustrophobic.

They cleaned one another gently, almost worshipfully, washing away the resulting sweat and come of their earlier efforts, until they almost felt like one body, the way they coordinated their movements together to get each lathered-up and rinsed, the way their limbs tangled in the small space, the way they carried the same scent of shampoo and soap. Sometimes they lost themselves, drifted into kisses and caresses, but one of them always eventually remembered the task they were there to achieve and kept them on track.

They made it out of the shower just as the water began to run cooler and tripped over one another on the way out, laughing until they were kissing again, their amusement turned to a slow burn of passion. Richard dug up the two clean towels he had, and wrapped only in soft cloth, he felt newly born into a strange, strange world where this beautiful man was leaning near-naked against his kitchen counter, watching him prepare to fix breakfast.

"Over-easy," Lee said as Richard pulled the egg carton and butter out of the fridge, before he could even ask. Richard took a look at the mass of pans on the stove, grabbed the largest one and nudged Lee out of the way of the sink so he could give it a brief wash. A sink full of dishes and a stove full of pans was the curse of loving to cook and hating to clean. When he was done, Lee moved in, grabbed the sponge from his hands and picked up a plate, beginning to run hot water over it.

"You don't have to do that," Richard protested.

"Yes, I do," Lee insisted, methodically scrubbing the plate. It was such a domestic sight, and again Richard felt strange, like his life had suddenly been transplanted with someone else's. Last night this man had been a familiar acquaintance, perhaps just on the cusp of being a friend, and now he was doing dishes in a towel after having his brains approximately fucked out. This could not be real.

"If I don't distract myself," Lee explained as he rinsed the plate and propped it up in the empty dish drainer, "I will distract _you_ and never get fed." He looked over at Richard and grinned. "And I owe you a little something after that, that was..." He shook his head, looking down to grab a couple forks, and Richard thought that he'd never seen someone do dishes with such a happy expression.

"Careful, now," Richard warned, carving off some butter to melt in the pan, "You're going to give me an ego." His words sounded casual, but a flush was creeping up his cheeks. As he cracked four eggs into the pan, one by one, he couldn't stop the events of the morning from replaying in his head, the blown-out desperation in Lee's eyes, the way the world had disappeared just for a moment. The memory curled in his stomach like a good meal.

In silence, they continued cooking and washing, each devoted to his own task with a single-mindedness that was the only thing preventing them from jumping one another all over again. The sizzling of butter and running of water formed a sort of homey white noise that blocked out the distractions. When the eggs were done to Richard's satisfaction, though, and he went to the drying rack to grab a couple of plates, he couldn't help but to trace his fingers along the constellations of freckles on Lee's back. The other man arched into his touch and shut off the sink, dropping the spoon and sponge in his hands with a clatter.

Richard didn't know if he could get over the delicious feeling of tilting his head _upward_ to be kissed, of Lee's towering height looming over him. He probably wasn't that much taller than Richard was, but when so few people ever came close to eye level, it was comforting to be wrapped in the arms of someone bigger than himself, comforting when Lee backed him against the counter, capturing his lips in a slow kiss. Richard gave in for a moment, losing himself in it, but one last sizzle from the pan brought him back.

"Food," he said, disentangling himself from Lee enough to get the plates he'd come for. He leaned in to press his lips briefly to the corner of the man's mouth, then maneuvered around him to go to the stove and serve out two eggs onto each plate. Lee followed him, resting his hands on Richard's hips as he served, then taking his plate when it was handed him.

They had their breakfast on the couch, close enough that their knees touched, chatting all the while. It amazed Richard how easily they were able to talk, how they never ran out of things to say. Normally he was taciturn at best, but Lee unlocked a secret talkative side to him, and he appreciated it. Every so often they would look over and catch eyes and grin for a second, like they had a secret between them now, a good one.

When they were finished, Lee took the plates to deposit them in the newly half-empty sink. Richard rose to trail him, and was considering whether he could go again when Lee looked at the clock over the stove and gasped, a look of realization on his face.

"Shit," he muttered, looking at Richard with an apologetic sort of pout. It suited him, the furrow of his brows, and Richard would have taken more time to appreciate it if he hadn't known there was disappointment coming. "I have a lunch meeting downtown today," Lee said, "I'd really better head out." He stepped toward Richard to lay hands to his hips, his fingers cool. "Wish I could stay longer," he said, glancing down to Richard's lips.

"You've got important art business to take care of," Richard said, wishing the words didn't cut at him a little bit. He kept a pleasant look on his face, though, and Lee seemed to believe the sentiment. "Far be it from me to keep you from it." Richard touched the side of Lee's face and pressed a lingering kiss to his lips before breaking away to head back into his bedroom.

They got dressed like they'd showered: a team effort, which while less efficient was infinitely more interesting. They had to be careful, this time, not to get too distracted, lest Lee miss his meeting, but they still found moments to brush fingers and lips over skin. It would have been ridiculous, how little they could keep their hands off one another, if Richard hadn't been too drunk on affection to question it.

"I could blow them off," Lee said as he buttoned the last button on Richard's shirt. He leaned down to brush his lips across the marks he'd left that morning and the night before, and Richard shuddered wanting nothing more than to jump back into bed with this man. But he summoned up the fortitude to step back.

"You should go, really," Richard insisted, and he took Lee's hand, leading them out of the bedroom, through the main room and to the door of his flat. He didn't quite have the self-control not to press Lee up against the door for another long kiss once there, but after a moment, he withdrew and nudged the man out of the way to open the door.

Suddenly, with Lee on the threshold about to leave, Richard was out of words. With the door open to the outside world, the bizarre nature of what had just happened hit him full-force. What was he supposed to say - have a nice meeting? See you on Monday? Thanks for the sex? Lee seemed equally at a loss, and they stared at one another for a good long moment.

"I... I don't know... what is this?" Lee asked, dragging out the words in his confusion. "Is this a one-time thing? Because..." He huffed out a sigh, looking around at a loss. "I don't want it to just be that."

"I don't either," Richard said, feeling relieved. He didn't think he could take it, to go back to being just an artist and his guard.

"Good." Lee's face relaxed into another of those damned smiles, and he leaned in to give Richard one last brief kiss before stepping fully back into the hallway. "Until next time," he said as he turned to head down the corridor, and Richard shook his head with a smile.

"Until next time," he answered, and waited, watching, until Lee reached the end of the hall and turned the corner before latching the door closed. He laughed softly, then, his stomach fluttering in the most cliched way possible. There was going to be a next time.

\---

With a Sunday morning like that, it was difficult to get through the rest of the day when all Richard wanted to do was be all wrapped up in Lee's arms again. He was completely gone over this guy, and it scared him a little - no, it scared him a lot. Who was Richard to attract the interest of a much younger, much more successful, infinitely more attractive man? Who was he to attract the interest of anyone at all?

He'd grown used to thinking of himself as a layabout with a nose the Grim Reaper could collect souls with, especially after what little buzz had surrounded _North and South_ had worn off. He'd dated people here and there, and had a couple of serious relationships, but largely his love life was a study in settling for his hand more often than not. Lee's interest in him didn't compute with that image - and really, it didn't have to, when it seemed to mostly be his voice that turned the guy on.

Something in him, though, some stupid part still flickered with hope. He hadn't had that feeling in a long time - in years, perhaps, not since things with Annie had turned sour - and it was impossible not to give in a little and indulge in the excitement. It gave him an energy he'd sorely missed. He may not have deserved to hope, but he had no choice.

Richard used this boost of energy to finally buck up and do a good clean of the place. It took nearly the entire day, but it felt good to finally do something for himself. He dug out the box of musical theatre CDs that had been gathering dust in the back of a cupboard and listened to them one by one, singing along to nearly every word.

His voice was rusty (and, honestly, a bit hoarse from following a large amount of wine with the interesting vocal gymnastics of the morning's activities), but gradually he got back into the feel of singing, beginning to connect the sound with his body again, to channel the air, to relax the muscles that got in the way. He wished, now, that even if he'd given up auditioning, he hadn't given up singing.

By the time his apartment was nearly clean, there was only one CD left in the bottom of the box. It sat there, face-down, and Richard felt terrified to pick it up - but he also knew that he had to do it. He picked the case up gingerly and took a breath before flipping it over in his hand to look at it. He focused first on Daniela in the mid-ground of the image, on how beautiful she'd looked, a depth to her that had made her a brilliant leading lady. It hadn't been hard to fall in love with her on stage night after night. She was the one who'd been worthy of the part.

In the foreground was a face that was simultaneously familiar and foreign, given how much Richard had changed over the past ten years. He studied himself in the picture, from the over-styled hair to the poncy ascot that had always made him feel a bit like he was choking, and wondered what he'd looked like to the young man who'd dreamt of his voice. Had he looked the part of a leading man? Or had he been a disappointment?

He opened the case and pulled out the CD, inserted it into the stereo and hesitated for a moment, his finger hovering over the play button. But he thought of the way Lee's eyes had widened when they'd talked about _North and South_ , and he steeled himself and pressed the button. As the atmospheric, lyrical melodies of the overture began to emerge, Richard couldn't help but to smile.

The next two hours were an exercise in memory as his mind summoned up every bit of blocking and choreography to go with the score. He danced through the rest of the cleaning jobs, his body remembering on a more visceral level than he'd thought possible. And when his songs came up, he was surprised to find that he didn't want to shrink into a ball, didn't want to unplug the stereo and dash it against the wall, as he'd always feared he would if he tried to listen to the recording.

Rather, he felt proud, even prouder than he had when the show had still been in rehearsal, before the first half-empty house. His voice had been stronger, more powerful than he'd remembered - but also more nuanced in the show's delicate moments. The composer had taken advantage of his low notes, setting the pieces in keys that would have been hard for future Thorntons to fit into, if there had been any future Thorntons. By the end of the finale, Richard felt almost worthy - and more than that, he felt the itch to perform again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the "poor self-deprecating Richard" trope is really not perfectly reflective of him in reality, but in this AU, imagining him going through a tough period, it made sense to take those elements of his personality and really emphasize them. He's got a long way to go to become properly himself.
> 
> I'm on Tumblr at velcroboyfriends.


	5. Unfamiliar Territory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richard and Lee struggle with how to make their new circumstances mesh with their old ones.

The subway ride to the museum was utterly nerve-wracking. Richard may have looked perfectly composed, standing there in his black suit, just like any other commuter on the train, but inside he was a wreck of anxieties. What if Lee had changed his mind? What if he'd just been polite, and never intended to take whatever this was further? What if he'd thought back over the whole idea of getting involved with a failure of a supposed actor and realized how foolish the concept was? The even scarier question, though, was what if he _hadn't_ changed his mind?

The walk to the museum seemed to take twice as long, the anticipation of seeing Lee again making every step drag by. He needed to get this over with, so that he could, perhaps, finally have some answers. His head was so full of thoughts that he barely saw the world around him as he walked, his legs on autopilot, and once he had reached the door of the museum, he hardly remembered the walk itself, only that it seemed to have taken centuries.

At 693, the black curtains formed a daunting column in the corner of the room. He thought about what Lee had said, before, about testing their sound-muffling qualities, and he tried to push down the tingle he felt at that, now, tried not to think about it as he gently pushed aside the thick curtain and stepped into the space, Lee's space.

The man was right there, as usual, stretching and breathing, and Richard stood still to just watch him for a moment, the way the fitted black t-shirt Lee wore for his piece clung to the muscles of his shoulders, the way he looked so at peace, eyes shut lightly. Richard tried to step quietly past him, not wanting to disturb him, but Lee opened his eyes when he heard his footsteps.

"Hi," the man said, soft and perhaps a little bit nervous. He smiled at Richard and stepped closer to him.

"Hi," Richard said, and just stared for a second, feeling like a right idiot. He took a step closer, too, and Lee moved to close the gap between them. He laid a hand on Richard's waist and leaned down to press a light kiss to his lips. It felt familiar, of course, had to have after all they'd done this the previous morning, but it felt utterly strange in this context - but not necessarily bad strange, just... strange. Lee laughed awkwardly.

"This is _odd_ ," Lee said. "But not bad odd." Richard nodded, brushing a hand over Lee's cheek, and kissed the corner of his mouth. He stepped back, then, realizing they should probably be professional about this if he didn't want to lose his job - and he really didn't want to, at least until the run of Lee's piece was up.

"The museum opens in five minutes," Richard said, slipping back into his corner as usual but for the little smile he couldn't keep from his face. "Have a good show."

"Thank you, five," Lee responded, and while Richard knew it was a little joke, a reference to their shared past, it cut at him a little all the same. He remembered the bustle backstage, the adrenaline rush that came in those minutes before places were called. Over the years he'd tried to forget the hole that leaving the theatre had left in him, filled it over like one might patch up a wall, but the past two days had broken right through. There was no pretending, anymore, that he didn't miss it terribly.

It did soothe him somewhat to see Lee altering his usual stretches, now that he was aware of Richard's eyes on him. He couldn't help but to laugh when the man went into an over-exaggerated downward dog, and Lee looked over at him with a wicked smile.

"Show-off," Richard murmured, hoping the words came out as fondly as he meant them to. The happy look didn't seem to fade from Lee's face as he continued his warm-up, so he considered it a success. He alternated between watching Lee and watching his watch hands while the man finished up. "Two minutes," he said when Lee had finished, and rather than heading to the far edge of the room, Lee strode over to Richard's corner.

"Thank you, two," he answered as he backed Richard against the corner. It was good he was in the actual corner of the room, for otherwise he would have fallen back against empty air when Lee gave him a kiss that made his knees go a little weak. Part of his mind tried to warn him that this was vastly inappropriate, but a much louder, more insistent part of his mind focused him on just how good the slide of their lips felt.

Two minutes felt more like two seconds when Richard's watch made a soft beep and Lee reluctantly broke the kiss. He ran his thumb along Richard's lip, and then he was gone, off to his station. Richard sighed, adjusted his necktie, and settled in for what would surely be an interesting shift.

\---

The first couple of patrons had been a little rough - Richard had expected this, and he was sure Lee had as well. He hadn't absorbed the people he'd mirrored to the same extent, his own mannerisms showing through in brief moments of what must have been distraction. It made Richard worry, at first, that he'd not just broken some unspoken museum rule but ruined Lee's art with his presence. He tried to tell Lee this, tried to offer to leave the post, to get a different guard in the next day, but Lee had refused. He could do this.

He was right, a fact for which Richard was grateful. He couldn't bear the thought of going back to Decorative Arts, not when he had _this_. The first two had been rough, yes, but Lee had begun to focus after Richard's offer, and with each patron he had gotten more and more into their bodies, their hearts. He'd let himself slip away just as he'd always done, and that sort of generosity was beautiful to watch.

At the end of the showing, when Lee crossed the room to exit, Richard hurried up to him.

"That was wonderful," he said, taking Lee's hand, but the man pulled away. Richard felt his stomach drop.

"I can't do this in here again," he said, "It's... when we're in here, we have to be professional." Richard's brow furrowed.

"You implied you'd _fucked_ someone in the space before," Richard said, the words surprising him in their intensity. "Is that professional?" Lee sighed and shook his head.

"That meant nothing." He looked at Richard, his eyes wide. "You're different, you... distract me." He backed toward the curtain. "Out there, okay, out there we can do whatever we want. But in here..." Lee gestured with a sweep of his hand. "This needs to be my space."

"All right," Richard said. It made sense, and he knew it - but that didn't mean the rejection hadn't hurt. It made it worse that he knew he had no right to be hurt, not after having Lee in his bed for just one night. He did the best he could to shake it off as they both exited through the curtain and Richard broke off to head to the security office. He hoped he hadn't ruined things utterly.

Lee was waiting, though, when he got to the exit, with that same expectant face.

"Hi," Lee said, and Richard took his hand as they walked together toward 86th Street.

\---

"I want to take you out," Richard said when he got to the exit door on Wednesday. Lee's showings were off on Thursday, to make up for the even longer showings on the weekends, and it seemed the perfect evening to try this properly. "On a proper date, where we both actually know that it's a date."

"Hey, now," Lee protested, crossing his arms. "I was being totally unsubtle that night, you were just having that delusion about not being gorgeous."

"One," Richard corrected, "It's not a delusion, and two, you were not being unsubtle."

"Exactly what part of 'Hey, I was gonna grab a tea before I head home, do you wanna come with?' doesn't sound date-y?"

"All of it," Richard spluttered, baffled at how Lee could think that offer wasn't at least a little bit confusing. "Especially the part where it was you asking me to do an activity that two people unattracted to one another could feasibly do together." Lee's own look of confusion brought a laugh out of him, and he would have felt bad, had it not been completely merited for him to laugh in the face of a man who thought 'Wanna come with?' was an obvious romantic overture. "It was confusing, and I want tonight to not be. Are you free?"

"Yeah," Lee said, "But a little underdressed." He looked pointedly at Richard's uniform. They were a study in contrasts, the both of them, both in black but at opposite ends of the spectrum of formality: t-shirt versus suit jacket. "We could go to my place to change this time," he offered, curling his fingers around Richard's tie, "And fail to make it out the door."

"Here's my plan," Richard said, wrapping his own hand around Lee's. "We get you changed, we go for a reasonably nice dinner, then we fail to make it out the door in the morning instead." Lee's smile turned wicked at that. "Does that sound acceptable?"

"It sounds like something I can work with," Lee answered, and off they went.

\---

Where Richard's flat had been an embarrassment, Lee's made him want to move in immediately. It wasn't that he'd fallen that fast - he wasn't that much a fool - it was how beautiful the place was. It was tiny, of course, like any respectable New York flat, but there were real _trees_ outside the ornate window grating (a custom job by Lee's welder friend) and the walls were covered in art of all forms. Even the furniture was artfully selected, the pieces spare but perfect.

"I take it back," Richard said, then backtracked. "No, I don't take it back - Chelsea _has_ gone to shit, but it's beautiful shit." Lee led them back to his bedroom, where he examined his wardrobe thoughtfully. Richard stepped into the room, where even the bedspread could have been hung in the Met as far as he was concerned, and stood behind Lee, propping his chin on the man's shoulder and wrapping his arms around his middle.

"What do you think," Lee asked, one hand cradling his chin in contemplation and the other resting on Richard's arm, "Grey or navy?"

"Neither," Richard purred, his fingers dipping down to venture under the hem of Lee's t-shirt. He'd had such noble plans before, but now that they were here, alone, he found them melting from his mind. Lee leaned his head back, and Richard craned his head around to kiss him. He moved his hands higher, running over the man's smooth torso. Lee turned to face him, raising his arms so Richard could tug the shirt off properly.

"What happened to dinner?" Lee asked, although he seemed much more concerned with unbuttoning Richard's jacket and shoving it off his shoulders than in heading out the door.

"Nothing wrong with a late dinner," Richard said, dipping his head to brush his lips over the freckles on Lee's shoulder. Lee arched his head, giving him room to work, and threaded his fingers through Richard's hair. Richard took a step forward, and another, until he'd succeeded in crowding Lee up against the sliding mirrored door of the wardrobe. Lee shivered a little when the bare skin of his back touched the cool glass, and Richard moved downward to lap at one peaked nipple, then graze his teeth along it.

Lee sighed above him, and Richard lifted his head to kiss him once more before dropping unceremoniously to his knees. The man's hand rested on his shoulder as he tugged open Lee's belt and unzipped, letting his black jeans fall to his ankles along with his pants. He was already hard, and Richard took a second to admire his cock before leaning in to swirl his tongue around the head.

"Yeah," Lee breathed as Richard wrapped a hand around the shaft and set to his work with enthusiasm. He loved sex in all its forms, but there was something about sucking someone's cock - this man's cock, especially - that made him feel powerful. It was odd, but it was true, and when he glanced up to see Lee's face a mask of pleasure, it felt amazing to know that he was the cause of that look.

Richard's head bobbed back and forth in tandem with his hand, never missing a beat, and once he felt like he'd gotten the lay of the land, he began to experiment with curls and flicks of his tongue, with different angles and pressures of his hand, with suction and spit. He lost himself in it, in the task at hand, and when Lee's hand moved up his neck to tangle in the hair at the back of his head, he gave over control, letting the other man guide him but following the directions in his own way, a collaborative effort.

"Richard," Lee said softly, and when Richard looked up, he saw a look of almost terrifying adoration. "You look fucking gorgeous." Normally he would have protested, but with his mouth otherwise occupied he couldn't note his disagreement. He closed his eyes, the look on Lee's face too much to bear right now. Right now, he felt he would rather focus on what he could do.

If Richard had been fervent before, now he was desperate, working his hands and mouth and tongue even harder. He felt his mouth and throat relaxing, and when he knew he was ready, he took his hand off the base of Lee's cock, freeing the man to guide him however he wanted. Lee's fingers tightened in his hair, and he moaned at that. His cock was straining at his clothing, now, and he did his best to unbuckle his belt and unzip while Lee began to fuck his mouth in earnest, little thrusts of his hips that became more confident as Richard showed he could take it.

He took his cock in hand and began stroking just as Lee arched and moaned, his movements becoming more hurried. Richard wrapped his free hand around to grab Lee's ass, urging him further until his cock reached the back of his mouth at every thrust. He knew he could take more, though, and wanted to prove it, so ignoring Lee's still-too-cautious directives, he opened his throat and swallowed him down to the base.

"Shit," Lee murmured, and pulled Richard's head back only to thrust in again, farther than he'd gone before, although not quite down to the base. Richard let any tension go, dropped his jaw, and let Lee control the tempo entirely. The faster Lee thrust, the faster Richard's hand stroked along his cock, and soon enough he was moaning along with Lee, the sounds muffled in varying degrees as the other man moved.

"Fuck, I'm gonna -" Lee cried out, and Richard took control back, stilling his head as Lee's cock twitched. He sealed his lips midway down the shaft, feeling the come pump out of his cock and into his mouth, warm and salty and infinitely gratifying. When he was sure Lee was done, he slid his mouth off carefully, keeping every drop inside, and swallowed it in a slow gulp.

"Oh my god." Lee's voice was breathless as he tugged Richard up to his feet. He stroked his thumb down Richard's swollen lips, then stretched his fingers around to cradle his jaw. "You have to see yourself, you look so..." Lee circled around him as he stood, leaving Richard facing the mirror with the other man behind him, reaching around to take hold of his cock. Richard closed his eyes, leaning his head back against Lee's shoulder.

"No," Lee said, nudging Richard's head back up. He opened his eyes, looked at the determination in Lee's own. "You're going to watch." Richard knew he had a choice in the matter, of course, but he wanted to please Lee, so he forced himself to study his reflection as Lee stroked him, his hand sure and firm around his cock.

It felt wrong at first, watching himself get off. He focused instead on Lee's face over his shoulder, on the curve of his side that he could see past his own, on the graceful curvature of his hand. He looked everywhere but at himself, difficult as it was when he took up the majority of the reflection, close as they were to the mirror.

As he became more lost in the pleasure, though, as Lee's ministrations became more urgent, he gave in, letting his eyes wander over his own reflection. He looked utterly wrecked, his mouth reddened and his hair wild. He supposed he had to admit that it was sexy, in a way, the way he looked right now. His rumpled shirt and tie rumpled and his trousers hanging open and dipping down around his hips added to the effect.

When he arched and moaned out at an especially nice movement from Lee, he saw and felt the pleasure at the same time, the way his brows furrowed and mouth dropped open. He looked over at Lee's reflection to meet his eyes in the glass, and the man nodded.

"You see it?" Lee asked, pumping his hand more vigorously.

"I - ah -" Richard struggled for breath. "I see something."

"Good," Lee said, and bowed his head to nip and suck at Richard's neck. When he moved away to a new spot, Richard could already see a bruise beginning to bloom, and it did seem that it suited him. Lee's grip tightened, and Richard arched against him, feeling the pleasure begin to build to a point. He bowed his head, staring at the furious motion of Lee's hand, but Lee slipped the fingers of his free hand under Richard's chin, tipping his head back up.

"Watch yourself come," Lee murmured, and Richard did, staring into the mirror as he breathed faster and faster and then held it, his whole body stilling as he spilled over Lee's hand. In that moment, he thought that maybe he saw it, what Lee saw in him. A moment later, though, it was gone, and he was back to looking at the awkward self he was used to. He turned around as soon as Lee's grip loosened and pressed their lips together, messy and sweet.

"How about dinner?" Richard drawled after they'd finally broken the kiss, his voice hoarse. "I'm starved."


	6. Cracks in the Mirror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richard receives a warning and begins to wonder if Lee is really as perfect as he seems.

They found an Italian place that was fancy enough for Richard's suit, but not so fancy that it would utterly wreck his wallet, and settled into a cozy, candlelit booth. It was exactly the sort of clarity Richard had wanted, everything about the place screaming 'date.' There was no room here for confusion, not with Lee looking unbearably handsome in the grey shirt and black waistcoat they'd finally decided on back at his flat and nudging Richard's foot under the table with his own every so often.

"Well, it came out of acting, obviously," Lee was saying as he picked at his risotto. "It's a classic theatre game for kids, something to - I don't know, get them introduced to controlling their bodies, working with others. I hated to lead, but I loved to follow. When I was doing whatever someone else did, I..." Lee furrowed his brow. "I didn't have to decide, I guess. I was free."

"You seem plenty decisive to me," Richard said. It was Lee who had asked him out for coffee, suggested they drink the pinot noir - fucked his mouth not an hour ago, no less, leaving his throat still feeling a bit raw when he sipped at his wine. He seemed to have no trouble leading, at least when it came to Richard.

"Do I?" Lee said, his brow furrowing a little. Again, Richard felt baffled by how this man seemed, sometimes, completely unaware of how he came off. Could he _really_ think he wasn't leading this? Lee shook his head, brushing off Richard's comment, and carried on with his explanation.

"In my first piece," Lee said, "I imitated people from memory, just... walked around as them. It didn't work, no one got it."

"Anyone in particular?" Richard asked.

"No," Lee replied, a little too quickly. "Just people I knew." He took a bite of his food, then, and there was silence for a moment. "I kept working with the idea in my art in different ways, and I guess it started to pay off. People started to get it. I was still doing it from memory, though, and it just... it didn't feel intimate enough."

"Every actor needs a scene partner," Richard agreed, and Lee nodded.

"Exactly! I started working from recordings, then doing pieces with two performers - and then I realized something." Lee's voice rang with intensity. "Everyone just wants to be seen, _really seen_ , for who they truly are. They want someone to look at them and absorb them through and through."

"And you could give them that," Richard said. "You could give them exactly what they wanted."

"It's what I'd always wanted to do," Lee replied. "I just wanted to show people what they needed to see." At that, he dug back into his food.

"Have you started thinking about your next piece?" Richard asked, then took a bite of his gnocchi while he waited for Lee to swallow a sip of wine.

"I've had ideas," Lee said, shuffling grains of rice around on his plate. "I'm in talks for a piece at the New Museum, that's what that meeting the other day was for. But..." He shrugged. "I'm at a loss, really. What could I do that would be more effective, more immediate than this?" Richard found his mind searching for thoughts, but they all seemed dull, unworthy. Who was he to try to give Lee suggestions, when he could barely keep his own life in order?

"It'll come to you," Richard said, "I'm sure."

"Yeah," Lee said, pushing his mouth into a smile. He seemed lost in thought, still, and remained so through the rest of dinner.

\---

"Oh my god," Lee gasped. They lay panting on the sheets, the morning sunlight streaming through the gap in the curtain to from a stripe across their bodies. Richard grunted in agreement and rolled to the side to drape an arm across Lee's middle, resting his lips on the man's warm shoulder. Lee raised a languid hand to stroke his fingers through Richard's hair. In the silence, Richard could hear the sound of traffic outside, the soft, periodic whoosh of cars zooming past. Slowly his breathing returned to normal, his heart rate settled. His skin felt cool where the sweat began to evaporate away.

"We should get up," Richard mumbled against Lee's shoulder, eventually. Lee grumbled wordlessly and reached out to pull Richard closer, sliding him across the sheets into Lee's arms. "Get cleaned up," Richard continued, even as he curled into Lee, tangling their legs together, "Have some breakfast."

"Can't move," Lee protested, his voice muffled where his lips were pressed into the top of Richard's head. "Too much sex. Not enough sleep." Richard felt it, too, the heaviness in his limbs that suggested he might never rise from this bed again. It mightn't be a problem, as it was quite a comfortable one, especially with Lee here. It was a relief that they didn't have work today.

"No such thing as 'too much sex'," was all Richard could say in protest, and then fell silent again, snuggling comfortably into Lee's chest. Lee's hand drifted lazily up and down his back, his fingers making soft trails along his skin. Just like the last morning they'd spent together, in this moment Richard felt transplanted into a strange world of domesticity and comfort. They'd only been doing whatever this was for a few days, but he'd felt at home in Lee's arms from the first night they'd spent together, and the feeling only grew.

"What's your dream role?" Lee asked, and it came from seemingly so out of nowhere that Richard was stunned for a moment. He hadn't given any role thought for such a long time, let alone his _dreams_. It was foolish to have a 'dream role' when he couldn't get any work at all.

"Richard III," he answered, looking up at Lee's face just in time to catch the look of surprise. "I'm named after him, my birthday is his... deathday, I suppose. It feels a part I was meant to play."

"I can't see you evil," Lee said. "Or with a..."

"Hunchback?"

"Crown," Lee teased, tracing his fingers along Richard's spine. "I thought it'd be, you know, Sweeney Todd or something."

"That _would_ be a good one," Richard agreed, tracing his fingers along the stubble on Lee's cheek. "He's evil too, you know."

"He's doing it all for Lucy," Lee argued, "For vengeance."

"For pies." Richard grinned lazily.

"I can't think of anything less evil than pies." Lee smiled back, and they were quiet, then. Richard yawned, settling heavier into Lee's arms.

"We should just stay in bed all day," Richard mumbled.

"What if we get hungry?"

"We can feed each other bunches of grapes."

"Sounds nice," Lee said faintly, pulling Richard closer as he shut his eyes.

"Hmm." Richard closed his eyes too, and with that he drifted off.

\---

"I'm back on the hook," Lee said when Richard got to the door on Saturday evening.

"The hook?" Richard threaded his fingers through Lee's as they started off walking.

"With my friends. They want to go out tonight. Can't throw them the booty call excuse again." Lee's wicked eyes glinted in the dim streetlights.

"You _told_ them why you didn't show?" Richard exclaimed. If it had been up to him, he'd have come up with some other reasonable excuse.

"Why not? When I told them how gorgeous you are," he said, breaking his grip on Richard's hand only to wrap his arm around his waist, "They understood completely. I don't think they'll be so understanding again."

"Let me guess," Richard said, trying to sound as put-upon as possible, "You want me to go with you." True, half of him saw this as a social obligation he would love to weasel out of. But the other half was giddy that Lee wanted him on his arm.

"Yeah, I wanna show you off," Lee drawled. Richard could feel his cheeks flushing, but hoped he could blame it on the cold October air.

"All right, I suppose I'll go," Richard said, as if his attendance were even in question. "Same problem - nothing to wear." He really ought to have started packing a change of clothes by now; next week, he would remember.

"My place is right near where we're going," Lee said, "Borrow something of mine."

\---

Richard felt ridiculous as they walked into the club. He hadn't felt the difference of their ages since that first week guarding, but now, a 34-year-old man out with - well, he didn't know Lee's age, but he knew it was quite a bit less than his own - he felt utterly out of place. And as they waded through the crowd to find Lee's friends shoved into a corner booth, looking like a bunch of kids fresh out of uni, Richard knew he was right.

"Hey, guys," Lee said, half-yelling to be heard over the music. "This is Richard." He gave Richard an adoring look, then, and Richard had to turn his gaze away from Lee's face to the table - it was too much. He forced a tight smile onto his face and gave his best attempt at a casual wave. Most of the group smiled back, he was relieved to see, although there was one guy on the end of the booth giving him a sour look. Lee maneuvered himself (with the familiar difficulty of the long-legged) into the other end, and reached out to grab Richard's hand, urging him to sit down next to him.

"I'm going to get us some drinks," Richard said, leaning down to Lee's ear so he wouldn't have to shout. "What'll it be?"

"Gin and tonic," Lee answered, giving Richard's hand a squeeze before letting him wander off to the bar. It was crowded, but Richard found an empty stool to perch upon while he waited to get the bartender's attention. When the bartender turned around, she saw Richard immediately (a blessing of being tall) but he waved her off, indicating a group of young women who'd obviously been there long before him. He looked about the room as he waited, fidgeting with his wallet in his hands, but didn't notice someone had taken a seat next to him until they spoke.

"Hey," the person next to him said, "Richard, right?" It was the sour-faced kid from the booth, and Richard edged away slightly as he looked over.

"Yeah," Richard said, "It's nice to meet you, ah..."

"Mark."

"Nice to meet you, Mark." Richard offered a hand to shake, but Mark didn't return it, his hand busy fiddling with his glasses.

"So you're the new one, huh?" Mark said, looking at Richard with an air of appraisal. "You're older than his usual, I'm surprised."

"Are you... were you involved with Lee?" Mark scoffed.

"Yeah, 'til he got bored." Richard felt a coldness in his stomach, then, and he looked back over at the booth, at Lee laughing at something one of his friends had just said.

"That doesn't sound like him," Richard said, turning back to Mark. Mark shook his head, a knowing smirk plastered across his face.

"Look," he said, leaning in toward Richard. "Lee likes to fix people, it... I don't know, he gets off on his own sense of altruism. He'll look at you like you hung the moon, build you up, get you where he thinks you need to go. And then when you're all shiny and fixed-up, he'll move on to the next one." Richard shook his head.

"I'm sure you must --"

"Hey," Mark insisted, "You think you're the first one I've given this speech? He's charming, I know that - _shit_ , I know that better than anyone. But just..." He sighed, and for once he looked sincere rather than bitter. "Be careful, okay? Don't fall too fast." The bartender had finished up with the group she was serving, and began to head over to Richard.

"I'll be careful," Richard said to Mark, if only to appease this man who so clearly wanted to be heard. Mark nodded, then slipped away as Richard turned to order.

"A Guinness and a G&T, please," he said, a polite smile on his face.

Back at the table, Lee took the small glass from Richard graciously, smiling at him like he - well, like he'd hung the moon. As he scooted into the booth next to Lee, Richard looked across the table at Mark, who seemed now to be engaged in conversation with the woman next to him. He had to be wrong about Lee, Richard thought as the other man's arm wrapped warm around his waist.

He looked at Lee, the way his smile shone bright on his face, the way his long fingers made the glass look comically small, the way he broke the conversation to glance at Richard again, hungrily, and he had to believe in this beautiful man. He settled in against Lee's side as he took a long pull from his glass.

Lee bought the next round, and the next one, and a round of unsettlingly delicious shots for the whole table, and before long any worry about what Mark said had left Richard's mind. There was no room for anything, now, but the delicious warmth of Lee's body pressed to his own. He'd joined the conversation midway through his first beer, and thanked whatever power there was that no one asked him what he did, and now he was laughing and chatting along with the rest of them, completely at ease.

Richard was so at ease that when someone at the table yelled out that they wanted to dance, and their group all rose to their feet, he felt no trepidation in joining them. His body felt fluid from the alcohol, and the bass pounded in a visceral way that made it easy for him to move as they wove their way into the crowd of dancing people. Lee kept hold of his hand, and it was only because of this that they didn't lose one another in the flow of bodies - the rest of their number seemed to disappear as soon as they reached the dance floor.

Richard stopped at a semi-open space that suited him, and tugged at Lee's hand to twirl him closer. It was a move he hadn't done in a long time, not since the last time he'd gone dancing with Annie, and it sent Lee giggling and half-toppling into his arms. Richard steadied him, hands on Lee's waist, and the two of them began to move.

It was intoxicating, dancing with Lee, feeling the swivel of the other man's hips under his hands. He'd always loved to dance, to challenge his body to move - he'd even thought seriously about a stint in the circus, before North and South had come along. He was more used, of course, to following choreography or the structured steps of a waltz or tango, but this had its own merits, and he lost himself in it. Their foreheads rested together as they danced so close they might well meld into one another.

Richard was startled out of his reverie when he heard the now-familiar sound of Lee's moan. As they'd danced, their hips had become more and more pressed together, and now he realized they were both hard against one another. Lee grabbed at Richard's ass, pulling him even closer, and Richard shuddered at the pressure on his cock, even through their layers of clothing. He rolled his hips, and Lee would have stumbled back had it not been for the grip of Richard's hands on his waist.

Their movements became more urgent until it had to be clear to everyone around them that they were not, exactly, dancing anymore. Even through the haze of alcohol, Richard felt wrong, with this many people watching. But he couldn't stop now, knew they'd unlocked a door that had to be opened.

"Follow me," Richard murmured into Lee's ear, and the other man nodded, licking his lips.

The men's toilet was dimly lit and, fortunately, empty as Richard and Lee burst through the door. Lee pressed Richard up against the door, kissing him hungrily.

"Stall," Richard mumbled, guiding Lee in a backwards walk to the nearest one. They barely fit in, the both of them, but it was just as well as Lee pulled the door closed behind him and slid the lock over. Now it was Richard who had Lee backed up against the door, the other man breathing hard. They didn't waste any time, fumbling at buckles and zippers until Lee had both their cocks in one big hand.

Richard groaned wordlessly as he looped his arms around Lee's neck, one draping across his shoulders and the other curling up into the other man's hair to cradle the back of his head. He pressed his forehead to Lee's, staring into his eyes as they panted and moaned together. The slide of their cocks against one another, the pressure of Lee's hand - it was fantastic, and Richard said as much before pulling Lee into a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss.

Richard thought he heard the door to the bathroom swing open, but any care he might have had about that disappeared at a particularly lovely twist of Lee's hand that brought a groan out of them both. He thrust his hips up, fucking into the circle of Lee's fingers, as his mouth traveled from Lee's lips to his jaw, then down to his neck. When Lee swiped his thumb across the heads of their cocks, coming back to rest slick with precome, Richard growled against the skin of his neck, and when the other man began to stroke faster, tighter, he bit down, savoring the feel of Lee's neck arching under his mouth.

Richard knew he was close, had been close since he'd felt Lee's hand around them, and his hips jerked, urging the speed faster. He kissed Lee, again, so far gone he just let their lips slide against one another with no finesse, no control - only pure want. Lee's free hand gripped into Richard's hair, and the tug from Lee's fingers as the man pulled his head back to stare into his face was that last little spark that sent him over the edge, spilling over Lee's hand and cock alike as everything around them disappeared except for Lee's eyes. He stared into them, mouth gaping, choking wordlessly on sounds he dared not set free in public, until he was able to breathe again.

Richard dropped to his knees, then, and he'd barely taken Lee into his mouth, tasting his own come on the underside, when Lee's fingers tightened in Richard's hair again and he was gone, too, his hips stuttering as climax washed over him. Richard was too drunk to be neat about it, pulled off too soon, Lee's come leaving a slick trail down his chin.

"Fuck," Lee whimpered when Richard lifted his head to look up at him, and he swiped his thumb up Richard's chin. Grabbing Lee's hand, Richard took his thumb into his mouth, lapping up the last of his come. When Richard rose to his feet, they looked at one another for a moment, and then laughed, Richard leaning on the door behind Lee.

"We should get back out there," Lee said as he tucked himself carefully back into his jeans and zipped up.

"What'll your friends think?" Once Richard's belt was buckled, he ran his fingers over the fresh mark on Lee's neck.

"They'll think whatever they want to think," Lee answered, eyes shining with glee, and for once Richard really didn't care what they were going to think either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hit a huge writer's block in between this chapter and the last, but got through it, with much thanks to samsscentury for showering me with ideas. Thanks, also, to everyone who's been leaving kudos and comments - it really motivates me to write when I hear from you all :]
> 
> I'm on Tumblr at velcroboyfriends.


	7. The Mirror Crack'd

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark's warning continues to hover over Richard's head.

Over the next few days, Richard tried his best to set aside what Mark had said to him. He was a bitter ex-boyfriend, Richard told himself, he was bound to dredge up the worst, to imagine Lee's every move to have an ulterior motive. It was easy to forget any suspicion when Lee had such an air of openness, when it felt like all he wanted was to be close to Richard, nothing more. It made him feel confident in a way he hadn't in ages, when Lee looked at him, and what could be wrong with that?

They were beginning - or, at least Richard hoped they were - to fall into a routine on these Wednesday and Saturday nights, nights when they didn't both have to be up and alert bright and early the next morning. Just like last Wednesday, they didn't split up at the subway station after work, but headed back to Richard's place. When they got to the door, this time, Richard was filled not with nerves but with excitement.

"Oh my god," Lee exclaimed as he walked in, "Look at this place!"

"Yeah, I tidied up a bit last Sunday," Richard said, following him into the main room. "Felt... inspired." He didn't mention that he'd sung the whole while - especially not that he'd listened to _North and South_.

"I've been told I have inspirational qualities," Lee teased as he wandered the room. "Although I just call them blowjobs." He brushed his fingers along Richard's newly unearthed and reshelved collection of CDs, although fortunately he didn't take a careful look at either of them. Richard didn't think he was ready to hear the show _again_ yet, and he knew Lee would insist. "I'm proud of you," Lee said, crossing back to Richard, and there was that look again, that terrifying adoration. Richard countered his cross, heading for the kitchen.

"Would you like anything?" Richard asked. "Water?"

"I'm just fine," Lee said, and as Richard filled a glass for himself he heard shuffling around, then the click of a button and radio static. Richard returned to the main room, sipping at his water whilst watching Lee seek through stations. Talk show, country music, advertisement, advertisement, classical music -

"Wait," Richard said before Lee could switch it again. It was Chopin, a piece he'd learned to waltz to back in his dance training. He set his glass down on the coffee table before approaching Lee, offering his hand. "Shall we dance?" he asked, knowing full well how cheesy he sounded. He didn't care, and from the grin on Lee's face, he didn't either.

"Charmed, sir," Lee said, taking Richard's hand and bowing deeply. Richard mirrored the bow, then pulled Lee into his arms, one hand curling around the man's back and the other supporting Lee's hand from below. Lee giggled as he laid a hand atop Richard's shoulder. "I don't usually follow," he said.

"Don't you?" Richard asked, and they were off, gliding across the floor that seemed so spacious, now that it wasn't cluttered with junk. Richard wasn't surprised that Lee knew how to waltz - he'd begun training as an actor, after all, and such things tended to come up. It also wasn't surprising how well they moved together, how Lee read every move before he made it and countered it perfectly. He followed well, indeed, just as he did in his piece.

What was surprising was how easily Richard took to leading him, how he never had to think about what he was doing, the way he usually did when dancing. He wasn't calculating where he was going to take them next, or when he was going to turn them - he simply followed his impulse, speeding here, slowing there. When he felt the whim, he prepped Lee for a twirl, and although he had to reach up far more than he was used to, he pulled Lee back in without missing a step.

The piece was heading toward its final cadence, and when the piano finally came to rest on the final chord, Richard slowed and swept his foot out, guiding Lee into a gentle dip. Lee beamed wide as he released his weight into Richard's hands, letting him hold Lee up for a moment, before rising back to his feet and pressing a kiss to Richard's lips.

"You're such a romantic," Lee murmured, taking his hand from where it had rested on Richard's palm to cradle his cheek. "I never expected that."

"What can I say?" Richard's hands drifted down to Lee's waist. "I'm old-fashioned."

"It suits you," Lee said, and in that moment, as they came together for a perfect kiss, everything in the world felt right.

\---

They hadn't _quite_ fallen straight into bed - Richard would give them that. They'd danced, they'd talked, they'd cuddled on the couch just enjoying being with one another. But as fresh as this thing between them was, it didn't take too long for them to find themselves sprawled out on Richard's bed, kissing hungrily. They'd shed their clothes on the way, leaving a trail behind them, and Richard was savoring the feel of skin on skin as they held one another close lying face-to-face.

"What do you want?" Richard murmured when the kiss broke for a moment. Lee stroked his fingers along Richard's side.

"Whatever you want," Lee said, closing in for another kiss, but Richard broke it after only the lightest press of lips.

"I don't want this to be about me tonight," Richard said, cradling the sides of Lee's face in his palms. "What do _you_ want?" Lee looked troubled, then, his eyes tracking around the room as he thought.

"I don't know," Lee said softly, the words barely coming out. He bit at his lip nervously. His fingers worried at Richard's skin, flexing and relaxing in alternate. He shook his head. "I guess..." His hand wandered down from Richard's side to skim along his hip. Richard could see the decision happen in Lee's eyes, the way his expression grew more sure. "I think I want to fuck you," Lee said, as if testing the words out. The words sent a tingle through Richard's body, and he clutched the other man closer.

"That sounds fantastic," Richard breathed, and at that affirmation Lee was all confidence again, rolling to the side to fish in the drawer for supplies. As Lee uncapped the lube bottle with haste, slicking up his fingers, Richard shifted to his back, and spread his legs. Lee pressed close along his side and leaned in to kiss Richard as he circled a finger around his entrance, cautious.

"I've done this before, you know," Richard insisted, "I won't break," and with that Lee began to press in, slow but sure. Richard sighed softly, the brief discomfort at first entry turning to the pleasure of being filled up. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back as Lee began to move back and forth, opening him up just a little bit. It had been too long since he'd done this.

"You want more?" Lee mumbled after a moment, and Richard nodded, his hand stroking where it was wrapped around Lee's back. A second finger nudged at his entrance, and he did his best to relax the muscles, allowing it to enter. Richard gasped in a hiss of breath at the stretch, and Lee stopped for a second. "You okay?"

"I will be," Richard assured him, "Just keep going." Sure enough, after he'd adjusted for a second, the slide of fingers felt wonderful, and he moaned quietly in approval. Lee's confidence grew, and he began to move his fingers faster, twisting them in ways that sent sparks of pleasure up Richard's spine. Just when the movements started to become predictable, Richard felt a third finger begin entry, and he arched up as he was filled more.

"That good?" Lee murmured into his ear, and Richard groaned in response, clutching at Lee's back. He'd imagined how good Lee's fingers would feel inside him practically since he'd first shaken the man's hand, and he'd underestimated the breadth of them, the length of them, the finesse with which he moved them. Richard would have been happy just getting off like this, on Lee's fingers alone. But when Lee asked if he was ready, a thrill went through him, and he didn't regret the loss of his fingers when he nodded and Lee slipped them out.

Richard rolled to the side to nip at Lee's neck as he rolled the condom over his cock, and when he began to shift back to lie out flat, Lee shook his head, laying a gentle hand to Richard's arm to stop him moving away.

"No," Lee said, sounding surprised at himself. "I want you to ride me." His eyes looked shy again, but as Richard swung his leg over Lee, moving to kneel over his hips, they also looked hungry. Lee's hands latched onto Richard's hips as Richard took Lee's cock in his hand, holding it steady as he shifted to straddle it. He sunk down slowly, savoring every moment of that first slide in, from the breaching of the first ring of muscle to the delicious feeling of reaching Lee's hips again, completely enclosing him within himself.

"Oh my god, Rich," Lee groaned as Richard rolled his hips tentatively, experimentally, feeling the way each shift in angle changed the pressure inside him, filled him in a totally different way. He felt breathless as he began to rise and fall, Lee's hands on his hips and his own hands on Lee's chest helping to support his efforts. The drag of Lee's cock inside him was overwhelming, and he tipped his head back as he sped the pace, breathing heavily.

Soon Richard was in a rhythm, moving up and down in strong strokes, putting more weight on his hands until he had to shift them to lean on the bed so he wouldn't crush the man under him. Lee's hips snapped up to meet his every movement, and the slap of skin on skin filled the room along with their moans of pleasure. Richard felt stretched open in the best of ways, and on display, too, tilting his head back down to watch the awe on Lee's face as he surveyed Richard above him. Normally it would have made him feel uncomfortable, to be looked at like that, but now it just made him feel powerful.

Richard really didn't have the muscles for this anymore, and as he grew fatigued, he shifted forward to lean over Lee, letting the other man's hips do the work for a while. This new angle felt even better, and when Lee gripped Richard's hips hard and bent his knees to get more leverage to thrust with, his cock slid just right, hitting a spot that made Richard cry out, his eyes wide.

"There," was all Richard could gasp out, and Lee did it again and again, the pressure making his body feel full of sparks and heat. It felt so good that it was almost unbearable, almost _hurt_ in a way, and Richard's moans turned to near sobs of overwhelmed pleasure. "Please," he keened, not sure what he was asking for, and as Lee's thrusts grew in speed and strength, Richard felt transported to a realm beyond words or thoughts, just pure raw feeling.

It only took Lee's hand shifting from his hip to his cock, just one stroke, before Richard was spilling over, his body stilling and clenching. Below him, Lee groaned out loud, desperately, and inside him he felt the man's cock twitching as he followed Richard down, both of them clutching one another tightly as they worked through their climaxes. When Richard was able to move again, he looked down at Lee, at his awestruck expression, and let out a soft, broken laugh. Lee laughed too, and held him close, and they lay together, boneless and brainless.

\---

"Hey, I almost forgot," Lee said as he stood by the bed, pulling his pants on. A business card had fallen out of the pocket, and he picked it up, offering it to Richard. As Richard took it and looked it over in the afternoon light sneaking in through the window blinds, Lee zipped up his jeans. 'Lucas Ellery, photographer,' the card read, along with a number and the address of his studio. Richard looked up at Lee, confused.

"He's a friend of mine," Lee said, bending down to grab the t-shirt Richard remembered tossing across the room the night before. He sniffed at it and recoiled, then turned to flip through the clothes hung up in Richard's wardrobe. "I asked him about headshots, he said he'd give you a family-and-friends rate. It's a really good deal, he does amazing work."

Lee plucked out a shirt of Richard's and held it out in front of him, considering it. Richard rose from the bed, card still in hand, and when Lee turned around, he looked surprised to find them face to face. He grinned, reaching a hand up, but Richard caught his wrist.

"What are you doing?" Richard asked, a little shocked at how cold his voice came through. Lee gestured with the hand holding the shirt.

"I don't have to borrow, it, I just figured -"

"No, what are you _doing_ , with this headshot business?" Richard held up the card.

"I thought, you know, if you want to get back in the game, you could use a new picture. Your '95 one probably won't cut it anymore." Lee looked so pleased with himself that it made what Richard had to say harder.

"Are you trying to fix me, Lee?"

"Not _fix_ you, it's just..." Lee looked worried, now, chewing at his lip. "Isn't this what you want?"

"I think that's up to _me_ to decide," Richard retorted. "I'm not your project."

"That's what you think this is?" Lee dropped the shirt and laid his empty hand against Richard's chest. "Look, Rich, I just care for you, I want to help you." Richard scoffed.

"He was right," Richard said, and stepped back away from Lee's touch. He pressed the card back into the man's hand, then let go of his wrist, taking another step away. "I don't need charity - I can fix my fucking self." Lee was flushed now, his eyes burning.

"If that's what you want," he said, the words coming out choked. He shoved the card back in his pocket, then reached down to grab his own shirt and tug it on. Posture stiff, Lee turned and headed for the door. "Good luck," he called back over his shoulder as he left Richard's flat, the closing door behind him echoing through every room.

Richard sat down heavily on the bed, bending forward to rest his elbows on his knees. The flat felt quieter, emptier, than it ever had before. He looked toward the door, wishing that Lee would come rushing back in, but knowing that it was best, truly, if he didn't. After all, he'd been warned, hadn't he? Richard dropped his head down to bury his face in his hands.

When Richard finally had the strength to get up from the bed and go lock the door, he discovered the business card lying there, slid in from under the door. It was a little crumpled, and he smoothed it out as he picked it up to look at it. He went to the kitchen, intending to throw it in the trash, but found himself setting it down on the counter instead.

As he went through his day, cooking himself some lunch, tidying up about the house, he kept being drawn back to look at the card again. Every time he tried to make himself toss it out, but he couldn't seem to do it. It lay on the counter like it was looking at him, and when he left the room he couldn't keep his thoughts off of it.

Would it be so bad, to get some new pictures taken? Was it really that hopeless to look through audition listings, to pull out some of his old monologues and sharpen them up? He wasn't Equity anymore, hadn't paid his dues in years - he could start small, something off-Broadway, or off-off-. He could finally stop putting off what he wanted.

Richard looked at the card again. It was near closing hours for the studio - if he was going to do this, he would have to do it now. He took a breath and picked up the little bit of paper, staring at it as he walked himself to the couch. He looked at the phone on the coffee table, then at the card again, and wondered how much his stubborn pride was really worth.

Tentatively, Richard picked up the phone, turning the handset over in his palm. He looked at the card again, punching the numbers in one by one, careful to get them right. He looked up, and across the room his reflection in the dark TV screen caught his eye. He took another deep breath and pushed 'call.'

The phone rang once, twice, and Richard was beginning to worry he'd never get through at all when the line picked up.

"Ellery Photography," said a man's voice, "How can I help you?" Richard was silent for a moment. "Hello?"

"Hi," Richard said, his voice barely making it out of his throat. "I'm calling to make an appointment for headshots."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is by Agatha Christie; I couldn't resist making the reference.
> 
> "Lucas Ellery Photography" is named for a character of mine on [Crypsis Supernaturalis](http://crypsis.b1.jcink.com/), a Victorian supernatural RP that is really the thing that got me here by a. providing a challenging and fascinating venue in which to improve my writing and b. opening my eyes to the wonders of Lee and, later, Richard. So I thought I'd throw in a little mention just to amuse myself :P
> 
> I'm on Tumblr at velcroboyfriends.


	8. Another Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richard and Lee deal with the aftermath of their fight.

When Richard reached Special Exhibitions that Friday, he felt stricken with panic and sadness and anxiety and a whole host of awful feelings that he should have considered when he'd decided to fuck someone he was contractually bound to spend this much time with. He felt stupid, really, for not thinking about this possibility before, for not sparing himself the pain of having to watch Lee whilst knowing he couldn't have him.

It was for the best, he tried to tell himself as he reached out tentatively to open the curtain - he'd been warned to stay away, he'd seen the signs of exactly what he'd been warned about, and the natural conclusion had been reached. It wouldn't have worked out, anyhow, he thought, they were at different stages of life, they had different goals. It would never have led anywhere good.

When Richard slipped into the space, though, and saw Lee bending himself into a graceful stretch, he was back where he'd started, his heart in his throat. He tried his best to move as quickly and quietly as possible into position, not to intrude. Lee didn't seem bothered at all, which was another knife in Richard's gut. He simply carried on through his warm-up with not a glance at all in Richard's direction, as if he weren't even present in the room.

As Lee finished up and strode over to his starting spot, Richard ached to reach out and touch him, but he clenched his hands into fists, his nails digging into his palm. The only sounds in the room were those of their breathing, Richard's shallow and short, Lee's measured and deep as it always was. After a few moments of palpable silence, Richard's watch beeped.

"Exhibit's opening," Richard said. He tried to say it quietly, resulting in the sound coming out choked and hoarse.

"Thanks," Lee said, painfully casually. Richard took a deep breath and settled in.

\---

When Richard reached the exit door, it felt wrong that Lee wasn't there, waiting for him. He stood there for a second, looking back into the museum, wishing that he'd see the man striding down the hallway, hurrying to catch up. But no such image appeared, and Richard turned to walk down the sidewalk, alone, his hands cold without another's to warm them.

At home, Richard found himself unable to sit still for more than a moment at a time. He tried the couch - but his water glass from Wednesday night was still there on the table, and somehow he couldn't bear to move it. He tried the kitchen, but when he looked at the empty sink, his mind conjured images of Lee washing up in the morning, warm and domestic. His bedroom was right out.

He looked at the business card again, sitting where he'd left it on the coffee table. In two days he was going to the studio to get - to get a _new headshot_. It felt surreal and right in equal measure. It made him itch to do more, to follow this idea through to its conclusion. He looked at his reflection in the TV screen, huffed out a breath, and went into his room. On a shelf in his cupboard, there were two dusty binders, which he took down and brought out to the main room, sitting on the floor to flip through them.

One was full of songs he'd done in uni, for voice lessons and for shows. He turned the pages slowly, considering each piece, remembering how it had felt to sing these songs. Some of them he couldn't help but to try out, just to see if he could still do them - and he could, he really could. There were a few marked with orange tags: songs he'd marked out for auditions. He remembered his audition for _North and South_ , how Kate and Jill behind the table had gone quiet and just _listened_.

The other binder was from the show, the score still preserved in full. He turned through, the music easily conjured up in his mind from a single glance at the sheets. Most of his portion of the show had been duets, with Hannah or with Margaret, or group scenes with the other businessmen and the workers. But there was one solo: "Look Back at Me."

He grinned when he saw it, remembering how it had felt to stand at the window, watching Margaret leave. Every night his heart had clenched as he'd begun the song, soft and plain at first but rising to swells of lyrical ebullience. The motif that played throughout the show's underscoring finally saw its fruition in that song, Thornton's one true expression of his love and desire. It had been intoxicating to perform.

Richard removed one of the orange tags from the other binder and placed it squarely on the top of the page.

\---

Saturday's shift was somehow worse than Fridays - probably because it was longer, but also because this time, Richard knew what he was in for. There was no hope that he would be able to simply be fine with this situation, no chance in his mind that Lee would suddenly seem to him as unremarkable as any other person. He suffered through each moment knowing full well that it wouldn't get better, at least not with any of the tactics he'd tried the previous day.

When he got to the door at the end of the shift, he was ready to breeze right through without a pause, but he stopped in his tracks when he saw Lee standing there, pacing back and forth outside the door. He hadn't seen Richard yet, so Richard waited for a second just to look at him, wondering what he could possibly have to say. He let himself have that moment, then pushed open the door and stepped through into the chilly air.

"I can't do this anymore," Lee said, turning toward Richard with sad eyes, and Richard's stomach dropped. Somehow it seemed worse, to him, to think that he might be moved to another wing, that someone else might be given the duty. He steeled himself, expecting the worst. "I miss you already, too much." Richard felt a clenching in his chest. This wasn't what he'd expected, not by a long shot. "Can I just... try to explain?"

"You can try," Richard said, impressed at the stoic facade he was keeping up in this moment. Inside he was shaking, but on the outside he barely moved a muscle.

"I guess Mark must have cornered you at the bar last week," Lee said, staring at his shoes, "And he... he has a fair point. I didn't end things well with him. Didn't end things well with a lot of people." His voice hitched at that, and he shook his head. "I don't know what I want. For a long time I just did what I knew would help other people. And it worked great, I'd make someone so happy, and then... they wouldn't want anything more. And I didn't know what to do with that.

"But I'm starting to think..." Lee looked up, now, at Richard. "I don't think that's enough for me anymore. I need to figure out what makes _me_ happy." He stepped closer, just close enough that if Richard wanted to, he could reach out and touch him. "And right now, _you_ make me happy. Just you, not whatever mission you represented when we first started out. Just being with you." Lee's eyes were shiny in the streetlight, and Richard felt his own begin to prickle as he looked at Lee in silence. "I know you don't trust me. But I couldn't just let this go."

"Lee," was all Richard could say while his mind processed what he'd just heard. He knew it could be rubbish, all of it. Lee was a charmer, a people-pleaser, and Richard was fully aware that this could be yet more charm. But he wanted to believe it so badly. "I don't know what to think," Richard muttered, shaking his head. The crest-fallen look on Lee's face gutted him, and he took a deep breath.

"If we do this... I can't be your charity case. I couldn't bear it. We would have to be equals in this." Lee nodded, his expression beginning to brighten. "I think that... I think that I'm willing to give it another go." When that sun-shaming smile spread across Lee's face, Richard really hoped he was doing the right thing here - because there was no turning back again. He didn't have the strength to resist him again.

Lee moved closer, and Richard did too, and then they were wrapped in one another's arms, holding tightly. Lee looked at Richard, eyes darting down to his mouth, but didn't lean in - it was Richard who laid a hand along the side of Lee's face and pulled him in for a desperate kiss. The tip of Lee's nose was cold where it pressed against Richard's cheek, reminding him of how cold it was out here. But he felt warm in Lee's arms.

\---

"We can't lie about all day today," Richard said regretfully as he sat up and stretched out his arms. As he looked at Lee all snug under the covers of his bed, there was nothing he wanted more than to lie back down next to him, but today he had a purpose, and he strode over to the window, sliding the blinds open to let sunlight pour in and perhaps make him feel more awake.

"Why not?" Lee groaned, pulling the duvet up over his head. Richard ran his hand over some region of the Lee-shaped lump under the covers as he returned to sit down on the corner of the bed. Apparently it was a good region, as Lee peeked out just enough to give him a filthy look that almost had Richard climbing right back in there with him. But he knew he had to stay strong, and he was nothing if not patient.

"I have an appointment this afternoon," Richard said with some degree of pride, and that perked Lee up even more - he sat up at that, dropping the covers into his lap. His hair stuck up in all directions, and Richard smiled fondly, smoothing a hand over it to try to help a little.

"An appointment? Do tell." Richard wanted to tell Lee about the photo session, he did - he wanted to pour out his excitement over the idea of going for auditions again. But he also felt cautious about sharing too much too soon. He wanted this to be _his_ move, not something Lee was pushing on him, and more than that, he didn't want to jinx it before it had even happened.

"Nothing to get too excited about," Richard answered, hoping he at least sounded like he might have been telling the truth. He stood up, then, took advantage of Lee's partial emergence from the covers to place a gentle hand at his elbow and urge him out of bed. "But I can't show up smelling of sex. C'mon."

"You can shower without me," Lee retorted, not budging.

"It's hardly as nice." Richard purred the words low, banking on the effect it would have on the other man, and it seemed to do the trick - Lee sighed and shoved the duvet aside, climbing out of bed to join Richard on the journey to the shower.

\---

Richard got them through a shower and made them breakfast - pancakes this time, the proper British sort - and Lee washed up and helped Richard pick out his most suitable outfit, and they were both out the door with plenty of time to stop and kiss before they had to split off in their own directions. As Richard walked to the subway in the crisp, cold air, he couldn't keep the satisfied grin off his face.

When he walked into Lucas Ellery's photography studio, the grin was still in place. It was a small space, up above a coffee shop, but it had enormous windows that let in a great deal of natural light - probably the selling point for a photographer. Lucas himself was already waiting by the door. He wasn't a particularly tall man, but his stiff posture brought him nearly up to Richard's somewhat slouched level, and his long hair was pulled back in an elegant bun.

"You must be Richard," Lucas said, offering a hand to shake, which Richard took loosely, his muscles still feeling a bit like jelly. "I've heard a lot about you."

"Good things, I hope," Richard said, his smile turning a little more sheepish.

"Of course." Lucas turned to take efficient strides over to a white wall where he'd set up a small stool in front of a tripod-mounted camera. "He did warn me you were rather stoic, but I don't see it."

"I suppose I got up on the right side of the bed this morning," Richard responded as he followed the man and went to sit in the stool. He did feel a little nervous, now, with a camera in front of him, and his smile flagged slightly.

"All right," Lucas said softly as he raised the tripod's center column and peered through the viewfinder, meticulously positioning it for what Richard dearly hoped would be a flattering angle. "If you could turn slightly to your right..." Richard obeyed, shifting his body on the stool. "Perfect. Now turn your head to look at me - just a little." Richard tried his best not to look too awkward as the camera clicked.

"Okay, the angle's great," Lucas said as he peeked out around the camera. "But I need you to give me more from the eyes and relax everywhere else." Richard obliged the best he could, but ended up just feeling like he was squinting and scowling when the camera clicked again. "That's..." Lucas looked around the camera at Richard again. "Okay, this might help. I need you to look at the camera, but not... _at_ the camera."

"Look on the fourth wall?" Richard asked.

"Exactly," Lucas said. "Actors, you guys are great. Sometimes." He cleared his throat, tucking a loose strand of hair behind his ear. "On the fourth wall, place someone you really want. And imagine you're looking at them, trying to get them to come over to you just with your eyes."

This was something Richard could do. Focal points and visualizations had always clicked with him in training, and easily he was able to slip away from where he was really sitting and imagine Lee, gazing at him with one of those wicked looks. Richard gave him one right back, not focusing on the camera at all.

"Perfect," Lucas said, "That's amazing. Let me just get a couple more." Richard shifted his look in between clicks, smirking, then smoldering, feeling strangely at ease. "Now... place someone there who you really love. Show them how much you care about them."

Richard was surprised to realize that when asked to think of someone he really loved, he still thought of Lee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one's a bit short; all the scenes seemed to only need a little bit of space to get the point across, and it felt like the right amount of things happening for one chapter. Also, I like writing Lucas so much that he will probably be back at some point, elegant man-bun and all.
> 
> I'm on Tumblr at velcroboyfriends.


	9. Back in the Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richard delves further into reviving his acting career - and into his feelings for Lee.

"What's that?" Lee asked. Richard had stopped to pick up his mail on the way up to his flat, and wasn't particularly surprised to find a key to one of the package lockers in his box. He slipped it into the lock and pulled out the brown mailing envelope quickly, making sure not to show the return address label.

"Nothing special," Richard said, trying to sound casual and not as though he wanted to rip the envelope open immediately and look at his new headshots. He'd seen the proofs, of course, on Sunday - Lucas had done the processing right then on the few Richard actually liked, a favor for a friend of Lee's. It was different, though, having them printed out and in his hands, and if Lee hadn't been with him, he would have indulged himself. Instead, he headed for the lift, tucking the envelope under his arm.

"You're up to something," Lee said, arching an eyebrow. It was rather obvious, Richard figured, and the man was undoubtedly onto him by now, but it felt good to at least pretend to keep it a secret for now.

When the lift door closed behind them, Lee pressed the button for Richard's floor with one hand and drew him in for a kiss with the other. Richard smiled into it, placing a hand at the small of Lee's back as their lips slipped softly against each other. Lee's free hand landed first at Richard's shoulder, then began to creep down his arm to his elbow, then his forearm, then his wrist, then -

"No, you don't," Richard blurted out, tugging the envelope away from Lee's curious fingers. He slid it behind his back and backed up against the rear wall of the elevator, then crossed his arms and gave Lee a challenging look.

"You win," Lee admitted as the elevator dinged. He started out the door, then turned back with dramatic flair. "This time." Richard giggled in an utterly undignified manner as he took hold of the envelope once more and stepped away from the wall to follow Lee into the corridor. He kept it tucked tightly under his arm as he unlocked the door and they both stepped into his flat, and as Lee made straight for his bedroom, Richard took a detour to slip the envelope behind a box of cereal in the kitchen.

"I'll be back for you," he murmured before hurrying after Lee.

\---

Richard had taken up singing as he did chores about the house, ever since his musical cleaning spree after that first morning with Lee. It made the work go faster, feel less impossible of a task to surmount. It also meant he had no excuse not to practice his audition pieces, nor one not to clean up, as both were linked together.

They'd had a bit of a lie-in for the morning, enough to feel luxurious, but when neither Richard nor Lee showed any sign of wanting to end their time together and Richard was beginning to get restless, he figured he might as well get some things done with Lee there for company. It seemed to suit the other man just fine to sit around whilst Richard bustled about the flat, occasionally throwing out the odd joke or comment, but mostly sitting in comfortable, familiar quiet.

Richard didn't even realize he was humming as he set to work at the kitchen table folding a load of clothes all warm and sweet-smelling from the dryer, until Lee came up behind him and wrapped his arms around Richard's waist.

"What is that?" Lee asked, then pressed a kiss just below Richard's ear.

"A sock," Richard deadpanned, holding out the item of clothing in his left hand and doing a Vanna White sweep under it with his right.

"That _song_ ," Lee sighed, nuzzling into the crook of Richard's neck.

"Oh, just some old thing." Richard shook his head as he dug through the laundry basket searching for a match to the sock in his hand.

"Will you sing it for me?" Lee asked, and Richard hesitated. He hadn't sung in front of someone since... well, not since Annie. But when he turned his head over his shoulder and saw the look in Lee's eyes, he knew there was no sense trying to resist. He took a deep breath, focusing his eyes on the clothes in front of him.

" _I'm as corny as Kansas in August_ ," Richard began softly, his voice shaking. His cheeks were burning hot already. " _I'm as normal as blueberry pie._ " The song sounded ridiculous in his voice, but he continued, emboldened when he felt Lee sigh against his neck. " _If you'll excuse the expression I use..._ " His voice was coming out stronger, now, and he finished, " _I'm in love with a wonderful guy._ " Shit. He'd forgotten the line was coming until he'd sung it, and now the flush from his cheeks reached his ears and neck.

"Are you?" Lee said, sounding breathless. Richard stared as hard as he could at the pair of socks sitting on top of the laundry pile and nodded, barely perceptibly. One of the hands on Richard's waist drifted up to his chin, turning his head gently so Lee could look at him.

"Good," Lee said, looking equally terrified and gleeful. "Cause I think I'm in love with you too." It felt fast to Richard, too fast - hell, they'd only been doing this for just shy of three weeks. But what he felt didn't respond to logic or reasonable time frames. All he knew was that when he looked at Lee, he felt a flood of such strong affection that he didn't know what to do with it, that he thought he would do anything to keep him from ever being hurt.

"I love you," Richard repeated, and turned in Lee's arms to face him. They looked at one another, then, as if neither of them could believe what was happening to them, and Richard wasn't sure who was the first to begin the kiss. Perhaps no one had begun it - perhaps it had been a collective act, the coming together of their lips.

It was Richard, though, who turned them so it was Lee who had his back to the table, who shoved the laundry basket off the surface with a loud clatter and a spill of clothes, who urged Lee back against the edge of the table until he obliged Richard and hopped up onto it, wrapping his legs around Richard's hips to pull him closer.

Lee hadn't bothered getting dressed again aside from pulling on his boxers, and Richard had only put on enough clothing to feel decent going down to the laundry room in the building's basement, so they were quickly divested of the unnecessary fabric, two bare bodies pressed against one another. Lee's neck was too tempting not to kiss, and then Richard's attention was caught by his collarbone, his nipple, the curve of his stomach.

He spent a goodly amount of time exploring the joys of Lee's inner thighs before the whines of the man above him grew so desperate that Richard would have felt criminal if he hadn't turned his attentions to the swell of his cock.

"Oh my _god_ , yes," Lee sighed as Richard went to work, hands and mouth bobbing along the shaft's length. Richard hummed softly as he licked and sucked, first just soft little noises, then, when he saw the way the sounds' reverberations made Lee shudder, full melodies, songs that popped into his head in succession. Lee's hands tightened in Richard's hair, then, his whole body tensed in pleasure.

Richard's fingers were spit-slick when he removed his hand from Lee's cock, and he traced them around the rim of the man's entrance, then pushed the tip of one in, the slide easy. Above him, Lee cried out, and Richard gazed upward to admire the look he'd put on the man's face. A few thrusts in and he could feel Lee was ready for a second already, which he slid in on the next inward thrust.

The muscles gave easily as Richard stretched outward with his fingers, and soon he had three in, working away while he took more and more of Lee's cock until the man gasped and grasped at Richard's hair, pulling him up and off.

"I need you to fuck me right now," Lee said, looking like it was the most important matter of his entire life, and how could Richard say no to that? He looked toward his bedroom.

"I'll just go get-"

"Wait." Lee's hand closed around Richard's wrist just as he was about to walk away. "I mean, I would've told you by now if I weren't clean," he said.

"I'm clean too," Richard said, "You were the first in... too long." Lee nodded, then lifted Richard's hand and took his fingers into his mouth, his tongue running along them. He guided the newly-slick hand down to Richard's own cock, wrapped Richard's fingers around it.

"Like I said," Lee repeated, "I need you to fuck me _right now_." Richard groaned as Lee pulled their hands up the length of his cock and then off, leaving it wet and cooling in the air, and he knew what had to come next.

Lee gasped when Richard shoved him down onto the table, groaned and lifted his legs to wrap around Richard's hips again as his cock ran along the cleft of his ass. Richard pressed in especially gently, wanting to be careful with only spit to ease the friction. Lee groaned impatiently, but Richard kept his strokes slow to begin, his hands running up and down the other man's sides.

"Easy," Richard murmured, reaching forward to stroke along Lee's cheek. It was intoxicating, the feel of him surrounding Richard's cock with nothing between them, the sensations even more nuanced, and he couldn't keep his strokes slow for long, speeding them up until the table was giving an ominous creak under them. Richard thought about it for a second but carried on - it was too late to stop now, and that poor table could handle worse, he was sure of it.

Lee arched his torso upward as Richard fucked into him, pushing himself up on one arm until he could wrap the other around Richard's neck both for stability and to pull him down for a kiss, and the changed angle was tighter, better, bringing moans out of them both. They kissed until Lee's arm began to shake, fatigued from holding himself up at such an awkward angle, but when Lee sank back down to lie on the table, Richard followed him, bending his body over to lean fully over Lee, and while his hips were less free to thrust as hard as he wanted, the movements brought frantic moans out of the other man nonetheless.

Richard sucked and nipped at Lee's jaw, humming into the skin, and Lee twisted under him, clutching at his back until he could feel the delicious drag of nails against his skin. The tight clench around Richard's cock was too much, and he buried himself deep before groaning long and low as he collapsed against Lee and came into him.

Richard took only a second to recover before the hardness of Lee's cock against him reminded him that he still had work to do. He sank to his knees again before the table, surveyed the territory for a moment, then made a long, broad sweep of his tongue over Lee's entrance, tasting the strangely familiar taste of his own come.

"Jesus fucking Christ," Lee groaned, pushing himself up on his hands again so he could watch. The shift in Lee's body sent a little more come oozing out of him, and Richard lapped it up quickly, then sank his tongue in to delve further. While one hand rested on Lee's thigh for balance, the other wrapped around Lee's cock, stroking quick and fast, and Lee cried out above him, every twist and clench of his body sending the taste of salt pouring onto Richard's tongue.

Richard hummed again, low and melodic, and that was all it took for Lee to fall back again as his cock twitched and spilled over Richard's hand. He kept licking at him until he was sure Lee was done, silent and gasping on the table. Richard leaned over him, pressing a kiss to his mouth.

"What were you saying before?" Lee muttered, breathless.

"That I love you?"

"Yeah," Lee panted, "That."

\---

The room was full of men, women and children, some sitting solitary or in pairs, some pacing the room, some humming to themselves quietly or stretching. Richard sat on his folding chair, elbows resting on his knees and his body still. He focused only on his breathing, on keeping his breaths low and full, engaging on every exhale to use the air to its greatest capacity.

He knew that if he started worrying about lyrics or vibrato or tone or any of the other things he'd practiced on his own, he would choke up when he got out there, start listening to himself and basing his technique on what he heard and not what he felt, revert to bad habits. But if he simply focused on breathing, the rest would follow.

In his hands he had three copies of his headshot, his resume stapled to the back. The latter was embarrassingly sparse, _North and South_ the only thing that kept him slightly above being a rank amateur. The headshot was decent - for this role he'd gone with one of the more stoic shots, buttoned-up collar and an intense look in his eyes. It was the sort of photo he might have used back when he was playing Thornton.

The waiting room fell silent when the door to the other room opened and a man walked out, trying to look confident. The stage manager poked her head out behind him, and everyone listened keenly for the next name, either hoping or dreading to be next.

"Richard Armitage?" the woman called out, and Richard rose from his seat to follow her in. There was a metal table with three people behind it - the stage manager and, Richard presumed, the producer and director. He handed the headshots to each of them, giving a polite smile and nod one after another, then stepped back a comfortable distance away.

"Hello," he said, "My name is Richard Armitage. I'm going to be singing 'Look Back at Me' from _North and South_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Richard sings is [A Wonderful Guy](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LSs3tb9wD4M) from South Pacific. Not the obvious choice for him but it was in my head and I realized it worked perfectly! And he's an old-fashioned-musical-theatre kinda guy. Hope you guys enjoyed it :]
> 
> I'm on Tumblr at velcroboyfriends.


	10. Great Expectations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richard continues auditioning and shifts his life accordingly.

There were more auditions, more than Richard had thought he could handle, but he pushed through each one. He knew where 'taking it easy' had gotten him in the past, what he'd reaped from making excuses not to go on casting calls. He knew, from all these years without work, that it wasn't going to fall into his lap without at least a bit of chasing-down on his part.

It was that first one he'd been on, though, that he got a callback for. He went in, read from the script - no dance audition, he was relieved to hear. He said his 'thank-you's, shook some hands, and off he was, simultaneously hoping for the best and trying to contain his hopes - perhaps if he disappointed himself preemptively, he couldn't be disappointed later if it didn't come through.

Richard's thoughts were so occupied with this conflict of hoping and then dashing those hopes that he took his route home almost on auto-pilot, getting off at the right stops through some sort of muscle memory. He didn't really pay attention to his surroundings until he turned the corner on the way to his flat, right next to a nice little bakery he sometimes frequented when he could use a treat and had some extra cash. This was certainly one of the former times.

The scent of fresh-baked bread and cinnamon flooded Richard's senses as he stepped into the warm room, a comforting feeling after a long walk in the cold. He breathed in deep as he approached the counter, scanning over the pastries on offer. They were quite lovely, the little tarts and macaroons, and he made a note to try out a recipe sometime for himself and Lee. He'd only cooked breakfast for the two of them, so far; perhaps it was time to show off with a fancy dinner.

"Can I help you?" the woman behind the till asked, and Richard was startled out of his dinner fantasy.

"Yes, yes, I'll have, ah..." Richard's eyes scanned further over the rows of goods. "One of those pecan bars sounds nice, I think." His line of sight traveled along until he stopped, his vision hitting a sign taped to the counter. 'Help wanted.' Richard stepped closer to the counter as the woman reached into the case to wrap a piece of waxed paper around the pastry and slip it into a paper bag.

"Anything else?" she asked cheerfully.

"That'll do it," Richard said, and as she began to ring him up, he added, "But could I get an application?"

\---

"You just keep surprising me," Lee said as Richard set a plate down in front of him. He'd done up a Sunday roast - pork with an apple-based sauce, roasted potatoes, honeyed green beans. It was a simple meal, something he'd been making for years; a taste of home, he supposed. He took the foods his mum had always made in his childhood, added his own little variations over time, until it was something he felt he'd perfected. Although in the past he'd have felt a fool cooking a roast on a Saturday, his grip on rules of proper eating had slid during his decade in America.

"I've cooked for you before," Richard replied as he put his own plate down on the table and took a seat. He shook out his napkin and placed it on his lap, took a little sip of the red wine he'd picked up for the night.

"Yeah, eggs and pancakes," Lee said, taking up his fork and knife. "Not that those weren't good." Richard waited to take a bite, wanting to get his reaction without any distractions. Lee delivered, grinning wide as soon as he'd had his first bite. "This is awesome." Richard dug in, now, cutting into the meat to make sure it'd been done properly. "I guess the multitude of dirty pans was for good reason."

"It's just a basic roast," Richard insisted, but inside he felt proud, that what felt like a casual hobby to him could be impressive to Lee. The room fell quiet as they focused on their food, Lee shoveling bites in like his plate was about to be taken away, Richard eating more slowly, considering what could still be improved about each part of the meal. When Lee seemed to realize he should probably take his time with the food, he looked up.

"So when my run ends after next week," he said, "Will they just... stick you back in Decorative Arts?" Richard shook his head, swallowing a bite of potato.

"I gave my notice last week," Richard admitted. "When you leave the museum - I'm leaving too." He took another bite of the potatoes, as though he'd said nothing of any great importance.

"Wait - what?" Lee spluttered. "Why?"

"I had never been so miserable in a job before I started guarding your exhibition," Richard said, "I couldn't go back to that sort of boredom. And I found a new job, just got the go-ahead a few days ago - you know that bakery down the street?"

"A bakery," Lee mused.

"I wanted something with more flexible hours," Richard explained, "That I could scale down if I - wanted to." Really, he'd wanted something with hours that started early enough that he wouldn't be going straight from work to rehearsals, if he got a part. Something he could reduce his hours on once they went into the run of the show and he started getting paid, something he could easily quit if things worked out. And the thought of working with his hands, of creating something - it sounded much more fulfilling than telling people not to touch the art and to keep their bags in front of them.

"Why would you need to go part-time?" Lee asked, and Richard shrugged.

"No particular reason, just... if I wanted to, that's all." He said it with enough conviction that Lee let the reason lie there, not challenging it. There was a glint of realization in the man's eye, though - if Richard wanted to keep his new activities hidden, they wouldn't stay that way for long. "You never know what'll happen," he added with a sly smile, and Lee nodded.

\---

Richard was roused from sleep by the ringing of the phone out in the main room. Lee grumbled and clutched at his side when he sat up, but he pried the man's hand off, squeezing it before laying it down on the surface of the bed. He quickly tugged on a pair of sweatpants from off the floor - something about answering the phone nude seemed indecent, even if the caller couldn't tell. He made it to the phone just in time, picking up the handset and answering it before it could go to the answering machine.

"Hello?" he said, clearing his throat when his voice came out more as a phlegmatic morning croak.

"Hi, is this Richard?" a woman said on the other end of the line.

"This is he."

"Hi, Richard, this is Emily from the Chesley Theatre. I'm calling to offer you the role we had you in for a couple weeks ago."

Richard's breathing stopped, his heart clenched. He'd hoped for this moment, of course, but hadn't dreamed it would come so soon. His head was swimming.

"Richard?" Richard cleared his throat again.

"Yeah, hi, I... I'll accept, I'm in, completely, count me in," Richard blathered in excitement.

"Great," Emily said, a smile in her voice. "I'll get you more information on the schedule soon, and some paperwork."

"Fantastic, I - thank you so much."

"It's our pleasure." She paused. "Well, I've got a few more people to call, so I'm gonna let you go."

"All right," Richard said, "Thanks again."

"I'll talk to you soon," Emily replied. "Have a nice day."

"You too," Richard said, and when the call cut off, he continued holding the phone in his hands for a moment, just breathing in the feeling of exhilaration. He put the phone down carefully, stood from the couch, stretched his body up toward the ceiling. Then he turned to go back into the bedroom, where morning light was beginning to streak through the blinds across the bed.

"Lee," Richard whispered as he sat on the bed, nudging the sleeping man. "Lee, wake up."

"What?" Lee groaned sleepily, his eyes cracking open slightly. His brow was furrowed, and he clutched at the blankets.

"I got a part," Richard said, and suddenly Lee was throwing the covers off to sit straight up, his face turned instantly from irritation to excitement.

"You got a - you didn't tell me you were going for auditions!" Lee exclaimed in disbelief.

"I didn't want to jinx it," Richard said, then yelped as Lee dove at him, pushing him down to the mattress in a tight embrace.

"You should've _told_ me," Lee said, voice muffled where his face was pressed into the curve of Richard's neck. He looked up, then, easing off a bit. "What's the part?"

"Just a small role, really," Richard insisted as he curled closer into Lee's arms. "Neville Craven in this off-Broadway production of _The Secret Garden_. But it's a good fit, I think - and there's this great duet, I've always wanted to sing it." Lee pressed a chaste kiss to Richard's jaw.

"I'm so happy for you," Lee said, stroking Richard's side. "I'll be there every night to see you."

"You'll get tired of it," Richard protested.

"No I won't," Lee insisted, but after consideration continued, "Okay, maybe not _every_ night. But I'll be there. I promise."

"I'll get as many comps as I can," Richard said, running a hand through the other man's hair. He shut his eyes, thought about trying to go back to sleep, but his heart was thrumming too fast to make rest an option. He turned his head to look at Lee, who was also lying awake. Their eyes met, and their faces curled into matching wicked grins.

"C'mere," Lee murmured, pulling Richard closer. "I should congratulate you properly."

\---

"I wish I could," Richard said as they reached the downtown subway stop. "But our first rehearsal's tonight."

"Look at you," Lee teased as they descended the stairs hand-in-hand. "Mister professional actor."

"Not yet," Richard insisted. "I don't get paid until the run begins. _Then_ I'll be a professional actor." He released Lee's hand to dig his wallet out of his pocket and slide the metro card out of its well-worn slot. They walked quickly through adjacent gates, sliding their cards through and passing through the turnstiles simultaneously. Richard shoved the card into his wallet into his pocket, and took up Lee's hand again, stroking his thumb across the other man's.

They wandered casually down to the end of the platform, where Richard let the duffel bag on his shoulder drop down to rest at his feet, still holding tight to the strap. He'd taken to toting his uniform back and forth, changing into and out of it at the museum - he was determined not to have another nothing-to-wear crisis, even if the first _had_ worked out surprisingly well.

"So not even a quick coffee break?" Lee asked, leaning into Richard's arm. Richard's answer was delayed by the roar of the approaching train. He shifted slightly back from the yellow line as the breeze from the moving train hit him, then hoisted his bag to his shoulder and hurried into the crowded car when it stopped. They stood facing one another at adjacent handholds - no room to sit at this hour.

"I s'pose I could do something quick," Richard admitted, raising his voice to be heard over the crowd. He shifted his weight as the train began to move - all the training he'd done in drama school to try to find his center had nothing on the practical training that was keeping one's balance in a moving subway car. One had the choice between finding one's center or stumbling and looking like a fool, and Richard was no fool.

"Are we ever going to see one another?" Lee asked, his brow furrowed. "With you working evenings now?"

"Don't worry about it," Richard said, reaching forward to lay a hand to Lee's arm, which jolted as the train came to a stop. "I'm not called every night. And soon your run'll be over and we'll have afternoons, yeah?" He smirked. "Besides, we see one another every day."

"You see _me_ ," Lee returned as the train started up again, "Standing in the corner, _watching_ me. I see you five minutes before and five minutes after."

"I thought you liked it when I watch you," Richard murmured, barely audible above the ambient noise of the car. Lee bit at his lip and tilted his head.

"You be careful," Lee said, "Or you'll be late for rehearsal for sure."

"No, no, no," Richard insisted, then dropped his voice low again. "Fucking before singing is a mistake one only makes once." Lee let out a laugh, then shook his head.

"I take it that's a 'no' on any funny business in your dressing room." Richard feigned a gasp.

"I am appalled, Mister Pace. Truly."

"That's not what you said last night."

"Quiet, you."

\---

With a sandwich in his belly, a half-empty cup of coffee still in his hand and his lips still feeling tingly from the kiss Lee had given him before they'd parted ways, Richard entered the rehearsal studio. He breathed in deep as he walked into the room - it smelled of that peculiar blend of scents that could only be found in a theatre space, of paint and wood and pure magic. He couldn't have kept the smile from his face if he'd wanted to.

There were already several people milling about, chatting or looking through their scripts. Richard gave a polite smile and nod to everyone he passed as he scanned along the square horseshoe setup of tables, looking for his seat. And there it was - right-hand table, three seats down from the center one. A white binder with a blue insert in the front: ' _The Secret Garden_. Neville Craven. Richard Armitage.' He moved to sit in the folding chair, flipped open the binder, and began to read avidly.

"Hello, stranger," he heard to his right. The voice sounded intensely familiar, and when he looked over to see who was sitting in the chair next to him, his stomach leapt.

"Daniela!" Richard exclaimed, standing from his seat to embrace her. Daniela giggled from where her face was squished into his chest, and squeezed him right back. "What are you doing here?"

"What are _you_ doing here?" Daniela shot back, taking a step back from the embrace. She was beaming up at him like the ten years had never passed, like they were still close friends and co-stars. "I haven't heard from you in ages - what have you been doing?"

"I've been... oh, it's quite embarrassing," Richard said with a shake of his head. "I've been treading water, really. Lately I'm a... guard at the Met." He bit his lip, looking sheepish, but Daniela's look of enthusiasm didn't falter.

"I haven't gotten much work either - a few things here and there. Did a soap for a while! Now, _that's_ embarrassing."

"Work is work." Richard shrugged. "But here we are!" He grinned wide, and Daniela matched it. "I'm Dr. Craven. And you're...?"

"Lily," Daniela answered, arching her eyebrows.

"So you're to spurn my love once more," Richard pronounced dramatically, and Daniela rolled her eyes.

"Not all your characters can be winners," she teased, then turned attentively when the stage manager - Emily from the phone, Richard assumed - stood from the table and cleared her throat.

"We'll be starting the read-through now, if you could all take your seats, please," Emily announced, and Richard and Daniela sat eagerly, the both of them leafing through the pages in their binders. The dull roar in the room calmed to an expectant silence, and Richard savored the sound - or, rather, lack of sound - of a group starting off on the journey of creating something. It had been a long time, far too long, but he was _back_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As Richard said, it's been a long time, far too long, but I'm back! Keeping up with the whole Comic-con thing really drained me for some reason, and then there was the other fic that claimed my attention, but now I'm excited to get back to this world! I'm especially excited because Richard's in _my world_ now! Forgive me if I write way too many rehearsal scenes (and maybe throw in a costume fitting because I am trash) xD
> 
> _The Secret Garden_ is a real musical, containing [this amazing duet](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x6C2cSS9-f4) between Neville Craven (Robert Westenberg, the baritone, first to sing) and his brother Archie (Mandy Patinkin, the tenor, second to sing). The Chesley Theatre is not - I named it after Robert Chesley, a gay playwright from the '80s. Emily may or may not be based on a real stage manager friend of mine.
> 
> I'm on Tumblr at velcroboyfriends.


	11. Covalency

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The run of Lee's exhibit ends, and some demons have not yet been laid to rest.

Richard had never seen Lee throw himself as completely into his piece as the man did during his final showing. Lee always committed himself, but his performance tonight was like nothing Richard had ever seen. He left himself behind entirely with each person who came into the space, became completely unrecognizable each time he stepped into the light. It was as if there were an infinite number of different people waiting back there in the dark, and Lee was sending them out one by one, like he must have been cheating.

It was all Richard could have asked for in a final showing, and - he suspected - all Lee could have asked for. There were tears, there was laughter, and every patron seemed to leave the room just as transformed as Lee became during his time with them. Even Richard found tears threatening to take shape and roll out of his eyes during a few of the encounters.

He made sure to pay close attention, to savor every moment of this, but all the same, when Richard's watch beeped, alerting them that it was closing time, he felt a regret that it was all over. Down the curtained wall from him, Richard could hear Lee beginning to move out of his spot.

"Wait," Richard murmured, breaking the silence. He moved through the shadows around the edge of the room to the entrance, across the space from Lee. "Do you have time for one more?" he asked, stepping cautiously into the blurred edge of the circle of light, and Lee gave no reply - just stepped into the circle in perfect synchrony with Richard.

They both stopped for a moment and observed one another in silence. Looking at Lee reflecting Richard back to himself, he felt an uncanny tug in his gut. While Lee himself tended to slump his shoulders (an affliction common to all people too tall for their own good), now Lee was - Richard was - closed in on himself, hands shoved deep into his pockets, arms clenched close to his sides. Together, their eyes widened in realization, and they straightened, trying their best to stand tall.

Richard took a step forward, mirrored by Lee, and another - his movements were more cautious than he'd thought they were, the way Lee showed them to him, with a sort of unsureness that was hard to look at. They took a few larger steps together until they were face-to-face, Richard staring into Lee's eyes and his own at the same time.

There was a coldness there that shocked Richard, like a frigid hand on the back of his neck. Lee's eyes were dulled from their usual shine, the lids hooded, the eyebrows drooped. He looked at Richard with increased worry, their eyes tracking back and forth together, and the more fear Lee showed him, the more Richard's own fear grew, until both of them were breathing hard, both of them turning away to press tense hands to their faces.

But when Richard looked back at Lee, the man's eyes brimming with the same tears that pricked at Richard's own eyes, he saw a flash of vulnerability and chased it, unknotting his brow and relaxing the tense line of his jaw to see them mirrored on Lee's face. Lee began to open up - Richard began to open up - and as he let the coldness begin to flow out of him he saw a warmth take its place, and he chased that as well.

Lee's face became a guide to his own, allowing Richard to see and feel his own emotions at the same time. He saw how when he stood tall and let his shoulders relax downward, he seemed like a man who could actually be comfortable with himself, saw how when he let the smallest shadow of a smile cross his face, he became almost... beautiful.

Richard and Lee lifted mirroring hands simultaneously, laid them tentatively on quivering faces. He felt, on his own face and under his thumb, his smile bloom, and then they were surging forward, wrapping one another in a warm embrace, comfortable and filled with love. Tears were wet both on his cheeks and on the side of his neck, and they both rubbed at their eyes as Richard backed out of the hug.

"Thank you," they both whispered, and Richard turned quickly, hurrying back into the shadows. He stood there, facing the curtains, no sound but the intermittent sniffs he made to contain the flood threatening to pour out of his face until he heard Lee's footsteps crossing the space and then felt warm arms encircling his waist, Lee's face burrowing into the crook of his neck.

Richard turned in the man's arms, and Lee was Lee again, as much himself as he could be. Richard couldn't see his face well, backlit as he was, but he could make out a teary-eyed smile, and he reached to cradle Lee's face between his hands and press a long, lingering kiss to the curve of his lips.

"Thank you," he whispered again, then bowed his head to rest his chin on Lee's shoulder, looking behind him into the circle of light. They held one another quietly until the security manager's voice buzzed out of Richard's walkie. It was time to go.

\---

The end-of-run party was... well, it was a lot. They'd done a quiet dinner beforehand, just the two of them, so at least that had given Richard a chance to unwind after that emotional outpouring at the museum, but when they entered the space, Richard felt the pressure that came with a crowd of people immediately. The glass of wine he'd had with dinner helped ease the strain a little, but not quite enough to moderate the shyness that came far too naturally to him, considering his choice of career.

"This is incredible," Lee said into Richard's ear, just loud enough to be heard over the music, and it really was. Every surface shone with polished metal, from the tables and chairs to the panoply of mirrors hanging on walls and dangling from the ceiling. In what Richard thought might have been some ironic arty joke, there was an enormous mirror ball in the center of the room that spun slowly and sent particles of colored light dancing all over the room. That light then bounced off all the mirrored surfaces, reflecting into infinite complexities that boggled the eyes.

"All for you," Richard said back, giving Lee a little side-armed squeeze around his middle, and Lee grinned wide, taking it all in. Richard had known, of course, that Lee was well-known and well-liked in the art world - but it had never quite sunk in until this moment that the man he was in love with was truly a rising star.

A month ago - hell, two weeks ago - seeing all this would have made Richard feel jealous of Lee's success and unworthy of his affections in equal measure. He would have felt like he didn't belong in this environment, like he had to pretend to be someone he wasn't just to fit in.

But now all he felt was _happy_ for Lee, that he merited this big of a celebration. And when the first of Lee's friends or colleagues or whomever they were rushed to greet him, Richard slipped away graciously, giving Lee's hand another squeeze before he wandered in the general direction of the bar.

The crowd was tightly packed with complete strangers, and as proud as Richard was of Lee, he indulged a brief fantasy of just leaving. But he'd never forgive himself if he abandoned Lee, and so he carried on, weaving between people until he reached the bar. He leaned against the bar, taking solace in the fact that one side of him, at least, was clear of bodies.

"So, we meet again," said a familiar voice next to him. Richard looked at the man sitting adjacent at the bar and gave a polite nod.

"Mark," Richard said simply, "Good to see you."

"You're still sticking around," Mark replied.

"That I am." Richard looked straight ahead, watching the bartender as he bustled back and forth, pouring and serving frantically.

"Guess there's no point trying to help people out," Mark said with a sigh, then took a long drink from his glass.

"Look," Richard said, turning toward the guy again, "I don't know everything about Lee. Neither do you, and I think - neither does he. But I think he's working it out, and that's enough for me." Mark nodded solemnly, and was quiet for a moment.

"Good," Mark said, "That's... that's great, man." His eyes, when they met Richard's, were sad, but the corners of his mouth curled upward slightly. "I hope it works out for you." He drained the last of his glass. "But I'm still not putting any money on it."

"Fair enough," Richard answered. He shrugged and turned back to the bar.

When Richard found Lee again, he'd barely moved past the entryway, mobbed as he was by friends and colleagues. Richard slipped into the circle of conversation next to him, pressing a gin-and-tonic into his hand.

"Thanks," Lee said. Richard nodded and took a sip of his own drink, looking around at the other people, who were all now looking at him. He felt the pressure of their collective gaze keenly.

"Who's this, then?" said the first woman brave enough to broach the subject. Richard looked to Lee to make the introduction - the man seemed a little unsure what to say, but Richard inclined his head, urging Lee on.

"This is Richard," Lee said, then added, after some trepidation, "He's my boyfriend." His face was a question as he looked over at Richard, more fearful than he'd expected to see from Lee. Richard nodded, and the fear dissolved into a smile. Lee switched the glass to his far hand, then, and stepped toward Richard to place a hand at the small of his back.

"And what do you do, Richard?" the same woman asked. Richard looked at Lee, took a breath, curled closer into the man's arm.

"I'm an actor."

\---

"That was... a party," Richard said as Lee unlocked the door to his flat and they both slipped inside.

"We know how to do it in the art world," Lee responded with a grin, leaning in to press a kiss to Richard's lips before wandering off into the main room. He stuck his keys up on a hook near the door, and while Richard moved to sit on the couch, Lee continued to wander restlessly. Suddenly, when the man neared his bookshelf, he stopped and turned around to look over at Richard. "You aren't working security anymore," Lee said.

"Yeah, that would be the point of resigning," Richard said, stretching his arms as he leaned back on the couch. Lee had pulled out a book from his shelf, an old one with a thick cover. He handled it strangely, lifting it out carefully, then turning it onto its side. He walked toward Richard and opened the cover, and Richard could see that inside, the pages had been glued together and hollowed out to form a box within the book. When he saw the plastic baggie and little pile of papers inside the box, Richard burst out laughing.

"You keep hash in a _book_ ," Richard said, as though Lee were unaware.

" _The Secret Garden_ , illustrated edition. Fitting, right?" Lee said, and Richard laughed even harder. "Found it at a garage sale a couple years ago, I've got a friend who does altered books. Didn't know how relevant it would become." He plucked the bag out and tilted his head. "How about it?" Richard nodded, and Lee placed the book on the coffee table in the middle of the room, sitting on the floor in front of it. Richard slipped off the couch and scooted along the floor to join him.

Lee's fingers were graceful as he laid out a paper, then reached into the bag and crumbled bits of bud and leaf between his fingers, sprinkled them carefully onto the paper in a straight line. Richard couldn't keep his eyes off the man's hands as he began to roll the paper into a tube, smoothing it from the middle out, his eyes flicking over to Lee's tongue as it emerged to wet the paper, then back to his broad fingers as they pressed a seal into the paper. Lee handed the spliff off to Richard, then reached down to a little shelf on the underside of the coffee table and pulled out a lighter.

"May I?" Lee said teasingly, and Richard placed the spliff between his lips, inhaling as Lee flicked the lighter to life and held the flame up to the end. The flame caught easily, sending smoke flowing into Richard's mouth. He did his best to take a rather small hit, but the smoke burnt his throat all the same, and although he held it in for a respectable amount of time, his exhale sent him into a coughing fit as he handed the spliff off to Lee.

"Been a while," Richard said between coughs, shaking his head.

"You good?" Lee asked, and Richard nodded, his coughs easing up. He watched Lee as he took a pull, admired the curve of his lips wrapped around the joint. Passing it back to Richard, Lee leaned back on his hands, holding his breath for an impressive length of time, giving Richard time to take another hit before the man exhaled slowly, channeling the smoke into a thin upward stream from his mouth. He smiled and rolled his head on his shoulders, taking the spliff gracefully when Richard offered it.

His second exhale was better than his first, if not as smooth as Lee then at least with only a minimum of coughing. Each hit got easier to take as they passed back and forth until he hardly noticed that they'd smoked the joint down to a little stub. Lee managed to pull one more hit out of it, then held what was left of the spliff until the end cooled from red to ashy grey. He put it down on top of the plastic bag, then leaned back to lie out on the ground.

Richard splayed himself out next to Lee, staring up at the ceiling. He felt a pull at his whole body, like there was a magnet behind his head and he was filled with little iron filings that pulled ceaselessly toward the top of his head and out. It was not unpleasant.

"Everyone asked me the same thing," Lee said, his voice rough and lower than usual. Richard licked his lips.

"Yeah?" Richard's own voice sounded far away, like he'd told the word to someone else and they were speaking it for him. He stretched his limbs out, following the pull of his body.

"'What are you doing next?' They all said it." Richard stayed quiet, just listening to Lee speak. He didn't feel like forwarding on any more words at the moment. "I said a bunch of shit," Lee continued after some thought. "None of it was true."

"What _is_ true?" Richard asked from afar. Lee was quiet again, thinking. When Richard tilted his head over to look at him, his eyes were tracking back and forth across the ceiling.

"I don't know," Lee said. "And that..." His eyes moved around quicker, blinking more often than was natural. "That scares the shit outta me. Y'know?" His eyes widened, then, staying staring at one point on the ceiling. "I keep thinking that I don't _know_ what comes next. I don't know what I want to do. What people want to see from me. They keep asking me, and I keep lying, and I think they know it's a lie, and sooner or later they're going to catch on. They're going to realize I'm a total hack and then it's all going to go away." Lee paused, licking his lips. "Shit, this was a bad idea," he continued, "I'm sorry, this was dumb, I'm an idiot, I just... don't _know_."

"Hey," Richard said, turning onto his side. He laid a hand to Lee's cheek. "Hey, no, hush." Lee's cheek was rough when Richard's fingers moved along it, and the sensation demanded repetition. "Don't worry about that now, okay?" Richard said softly, but Lee shook his head.

"Can't _not_ ," Lee said, and bit at his lip. "I'm sorry, I don't usually get like this, you must think I'm..."

"No, no," Richard said, and he moved along the carpet to align his body with Lee's side, wrapping his arm around Lee's middle. Now his fingers stroked along the smooth fabric of Lee's shirt, his side firm and warm under it. "You'll figure it out," he murmured. "But not right now." He stilled his hand, laying it flat on Lee's stomach, just below the man's rib cage. "Right now, just breathe, okay?" he said. "Follow me."

Richard breathed in slowly, and under his hand he felt Lee's stomach rise in tandem, shakily. When he breathed out, his hand fell too.

"Good," Richard said softly, and continued the rhythm, a slow in and out of breath, until Lee's muscles began to relax, his face to soften. "Just feel," he said, his hand gradually making its way back to curl around Lee's side, a slow glide along fabric and, underneath, skin. "The whole point is to feel good, yeah?"

"Mm." Lee hummed in agreement as he let his muscles go more, snuggling up along Richard's side. Now the magnet seemed to pull Richard toward Lee, and it seemed to go both ways as well - Lee turned and moved even closer, sealing the fronts of their bodies together. Richard's arms swept around the man, holding him close, as Lee's hand wandered across Richard's cheek. "You're growing your beard out," he mused.

"For the show," Richard said, nuzzling into Lee's hand.

"It suits you," Lee said, stroking his thumb back and forth amidst the stubble of Richard's cheek. Richard's skin tingled wherever Lee touched it, his fingers feeling impossibly smooth. When Lee angled his head in to press their lips together, the touch felt velvety and warm, and Richard pulled Lee as close as he could get him, kissing back with fervor.

They couldn't seem to get close enough, and in his eagerness, Lee surged forward and pushed Richard onto his back, rolling across him to straddle him. Their kiss never broke, and their torsos moved apart only just enough to accommodate the shift in position, but once Lee was atop him, they were glued together once again, this time with Lee's hips flush against Richard's. Lee rolled his hips, and Richard groaned softly, his hands moving down Lee's back to rest on his hips and pull them down tight to him.

Richard tilted his own hips up, and although there were layers of clothing between them, the friction somehow made the slide of their cocks against one another even more delicious. Lee rocked his hips again, and Richard followed suit, and if it hadn't felt so good, Richard would have been embarrassed to be dry-humping in the middle of Lee's living room. As it was, he had no room for thoughts of anything besides the incredible feeling of the press of their bodies.

"We should," Lee started to mumble against Richard's mouth, but trailed off into a quiet moan as he twisted his hips again and again, and instead replaced words with grazes of teeth and sweeps of tongue. Richard just held tight, his hips twitching upward at an increasingly frantic tempo. They were both panting now, their mouths simply resting against one another as they focused all their attentions on the actions of their hips.

"Close," Lee gasped, and Richard nodded. His fingers clenched tight around Lee's hips as he pulled them down harder, surging up to rut against him. They both gasped as they shifted slightly and slotted together even better. The feeling of a pull in Richard's body intensified, and he wanted nothing more than to stay like this forever, impossibly close and yet still too far away.

Lee's hips stuttered, and he let out a single, breathy moan of a noise as he ground down hard onto Richard, almost too hard. Richard's hands gripped even tighter, and pleasure surged within him until it spilled over and he was coming, and Lee was coming too, and they sank into one another like atoms bonding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been wanting to write Lee and Richard smoking up together ever since I read a scene of it by ineedthislikeaholeinthehead, so when the opportunity arose I pounced! I tried to really think through how it would affect them, and I have a lot of thoughts about MBTI types and the stack-flipping that can happen with weed, so if you want to nerd out about MBTI I have so many things to say. So many. That said, I really don't have that much experience with it, so as usual, take what I write with a heaping tablespoon of salt.
> 
> A covalent bond is where two atoms bond by sharing electron pairs, allowing each to achieve a full electron shell.
> 
> I'm on Tumblr at velcroboyfriends.


	12. Proofing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richard begins to settle into his new jobs while Lee wonders about his future.

While the weather in the city got colder by the day, slipping into late autumn, it was always warm in the bakery, especially in the back kitchen. The whole place smelt of cinnamon and warm bread, and while the early hours and petulant customers were taxing, Richard loved the job, really. It wasn't as rewarding or as interesting as acting for a living would be, if he ever managed it, but compared to the other awful jobs he'd held over the decade, it was - so far, at least - his favorite.

The time between the lunch rush and the end-of-the-work-day crowd was the time when much of the prep work was done for the next day. Richard wasn't qualified to mix the dough - that task was left to the actual bakers - but when the shop was low in activity, he was usually left to handle both the register and the kneading and shaping of the doughs in process. It was this time of day he enjoyed the most, when he could work with his hands and get lost in his thoughts with a minimum of interruption. It was crucial thinking time, these few hours.

It was sourdough right now, the highest-priority dough with its long proofing time. The scent of yeast and flour drifted out of the dough as Richard pressed into it, folding and turning and folding again. He loved the way the dough began a sloppy mess and gradually tightened under his hands, turning into something solid and formable. It was tiring work, and his arms always ached by the end, but it was gratifying all the same. As his fingers worked into the dough, Richard's mind felt soothed, given space to clear out. He closed his eyes for a moment, working the dough by feel alone.

When the little bell over the door jingled, Richard groaned softly, too soft to hear. He liked to get as much time alone as he could here - tending to customers could be exhausting, even when they were friendly. The dough was almost finished, too close to being done to leave it alone now, and Richard continued kneading.

"Just a moment, please," he called out into the front room, not looking. He sped his movements.

"Oh, don't worry - I can wait." It was an instantly recognizable voice that sent Richard's heart leaping in his chest. Looking out into the main room revealed a tall man with a blinding smile, and Richard smiled right back. He hadn't been expecting Lee here, and while Richard wasn't normally one for surprises, this one was lovely. Lee approached the counter and leaned against it, watching Richard appreciatively, and Richard turned back to the bread, the tips of his ears growing warm. "You knead as long as you need, honey. I'm happy to watch."

"You're incorrigible," Richard muttered, trying and failing to look cross. He slowed his pace, taking the time to work the dough as he normally would. He was conscious, now, of the flex in his arms and wrists and hands. He could practically _feel_ Lee's gaze on them.

"What do health codes say about fucking in the kitchen?" Lee said just loud enough that Richard could hear him, and when Richard looked at him again, his eyes were hungry. Richard swallowed hard, trying not to let too many images flood through his mind. "Guessing it's frowned upon."

"'No,' is what I think it says. In big red letters." Lee pouted exaggeratedly, looking like nothing so much as a little monkey. Richard wished it killed the desire coursing through him. "No health codes for the kitchen at your place," Richard said with an arched eyebrow.

"I have my own code," Lee pronounced, "And it requires that you make _me_ bread sometime. Preferably au naturel - it's more hygienic that way." Richard scoffed, but added the thought to a mental bank of possibilities.

"So," Richard said, hoping to change the subject to something less blatantly unprofessional, "Did you just come here to flirt mercilessly, or...?"

"I was out and about." Richard pulled a little piece of dough off the mass in his hands, stretched it and held it up to the light to check the tension. It let a slight glow of light through without breaking - perfect. With one final fold, Richard lifted the heavy ball of dough in his hands and dumped it into the empty proofing basket he'd prepped. "Missed your face. Thought I'd stop in and see you." The idea warmed Richard from the inside out, the feeling of having someone who missed him after just a day apart, someone who would cross town just to watch him work. He smiled softly as he scraped the clinging dough from his fingers.

"I missed you too," Richard answered as he turned and went to the sink to wash the rest of the dough from his hands. It peeled away reluctantly until his hands were mostly clean. A quick towel-off on his apron, and he was lifting the proofing basket, heaving it up and over to the shelf where like bowls sat covered in towels. He draped a clean one over the top of the bowl, then headed for the counter. He still thrilled just at the sight of Lee, just to lean on the counter across from him and look into his eyes.

"I had a meeting with someone from the Tate Modern today," Lee said, casually, like it meant nothing. Richard's eyebrows shot up.

"In London?" he asked, as though there were any other, and Lee nodded. "Lee, that's fantastic."

"They want to know what I've got coming next - they might want to host it."

"And what did you tell them?"

"The truth," Lee said. Richard inclined his head, a question in his eyes. "I told them I have no fucking clue - in more tactful words, of course." Richard's brow furrowed, his fingers steepled. He didn't quite know what to say to that.

"I'm sorry, that must be --"

"No," Lee said, "No, it was - it was a relief." His smile was infectious, dissolving the worry from Richard's face. "They told me to take my time, that they'd still be waiting when I figured it out. And I'm going to figure it out - what _I_ want to do. No more mirroring, no more imitation. Just me, whoever that is." Lee had never looked as glorious as he had in that moment, completely open and free in a way Richard hadn't seen him before. Richard had to lean across the counter, had to touch his cheek and press a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

"You'll figure it out," Richard said softly, "I know you will." Lee laid a hand to Richard's shoulder, warm and solid, arched into his touch.

"Thank you." Lee turned his head to kiss Richard's lips fully before stepping back. "Now, if I could get some apple turnovers..."

\---

It had been years since Richard had worn clothing like this: stiff collars and waistcoats and frock coats, layers upon layers of unforgiving fabric. It felt familiar, though, took him back to the days when he'd been Thornton every night. He'd worn clothes like this, then, worse ones. Thornton had been buttoned up so firmly that he'd sweated buckets on stage. He'd felt awful for the wardrobe crew, who'd had to launder what could be washed and make do with what couldn't. The armpits of Thornton's coat had always stunk of vodka when he'd put it on in the evenings, but it was better than whatever smells it had been sprayed on to eliminate.

He did up what he could in the dressing room, buttoning every button up the shirt, clipping braces to his trousers and sliding them over his shoulders, doing up the waistcoat, not forgetting to feed the chain of the watch he'd been given through the second-lowest buttonhole. The cufflinks were beyond him on his own, and the fine art of tying an ascot had been lost to him over the decade since he'd learnt it. Dressed as much as he could be, he stood before the full-length mirror in the dressing room, observing himself.

This style of dress suited him, Richard thought. He could get used to the way the layers of clothing urged him to honor them by standing up straight, dropping his shoulders back to encourage a nice drape in the seams of the waistcoat. It was easy to slump about in the sorts of things he normally put on his body, but these clothes demanded something else entirely of him. They demanded him to be an actor, to slip into a physicality beside his own. It would be an entirely different show, he thought, once he was in costume.

"How's it going in there?" a voice called through the door, and Richard set aside these thoughts, turning away from the mirror toward the door back into the costume shop. Bea was waiting for him, a kindly costumer with a mean grudge for anyone who disrespected her time, and he hurried out of the dressing room into the chaotic space of the shop. First dress was only a week away, and the shop showed it, with the normally neatly-stacked boxes of stock clothing spilling fabric everywhere and stitchers working away furiously at their machines. Bea had three tape measures looped around her neck, probably not on purpose, and a bit of a thousand-yard stare going as she looked over Richard's costume.

"The fit looks better in the waistcoat now," Bea mused, and Richard nodded. He proffered the ascot and cufflinks, and Bea took them, going to work quickly. "Right wrist," she said and Richard obeyed. She turned up the cuff with maximum efficiency of movement - she'd done this hundreds of times, Richard bet, for hundreds of helpless actors. "Took us ages to find a shirt long enough for your arms, dear," she added, slipping the cufflink through the holes in his cuff and locking it into place.

"Sorry," Richard said sheepishly, offering his opposite wrist. "I'm difficult, what can I say?"

"That you are," Bea murmured as she finished linking the second cuff. "You're lucky you're charming." She held up the ascot to Richard's neck, looked at it for a moment, then shook her head, tossing it onto the long table next to them. "Won't do at all," she said, and turned to a bin of ascots, shuffling through them. Richard had never considered before how many variations there could be on a simple rectangle of fabric, let alone how many shades of blue were possible. Bea selected a handful, holding each up to Richard's face before discarding them one by one. Eventually she settled on one she seemed to like. "Matches your eyes," she said, "Very nice."

"I'll relearn how to tie it," Richard said as Bea looped the fabric around his neck, "I promise." She chuckled softly.

"Tell that to Isabella, sweetie. I'm not the one who'll be tying it every night if you don't." Bea's hands formed the knot easily, too quickly for Richard to follow. He made a note to look it up later - perhaps Lee would let him practice on him. "Tell her to be careful next time, huh?" Richard blinked, confused.

"Who, Isabella?" Bea shook her head and tutted softly. She tightened the ascot and stepped back.

"Your girlfriend," she answered. "Rose'll murder you if she has to take extra time to cover those up every night." Oh. Richard rubbed at his neck self-consciously. He hadn't thought about it, when Lee was doting attention on his neck last night - now he felt ridiculous, like a teenager, coming in with hickeys.

"Yeah, sorry," Richard said softly, "Won't happen again." He wanted to correct Bea, tell her it wasn't a woman who'd left those, but a man, the man he loved so much it terrified him sometimes. He wanted to tell her about Lee, about how he ran lines with Richard every evening he spent at Lee's flat (the evenings growing in frequency with every week), how he let Richard ramble on about Neville's thoughts and feelings, how he helped Richard develop a physicality all the character's own. But it wasn't the time or place for correction - hadn't been other times people had made similar assumptions. Sometimes he wondered when it _would_ seem like the right time.

"... feel okay?" Bea was saying. Richard blinked - he'd been staring at the wall over her shoulder.

"What was that?" Richard asked, feeling a fool.

"I was asking if everything feels okay. Nothing's too tight?" Richard swung his arms back and forth, raised them over his head. The clothes moved with him, every seam conforming but not constricting his body.

"Feels great," Richard said, and Bea nodded. She looked over him carefully, her eyes moving from feature to feature of the clothing. There was a little bowl of safety pins on the table, and she grabbed a handful before dropping to one knee.

"Just need to fix the break here," she said. "You look like you're standing in a hole." Richard laughed softly, and as Bea fiddled with the hems of his trousers, he let his mind slip away from the truths he wasn't ready to speak.

\---

"This is the best day of my life," Lee mumbled around a mouthful of bread. The two of them were seated on the floor of Lee's kitchen, backs against the wood laminate of the counter. The floor was a little cold under Richard's bare skin, but Lee was warm where he curled up against him, and the fresh loaf of bread he held in his right hand was still hot from the oven, just cool enough to eat.

"Mm," Richard agreed softly. His left arm was wrapped around Lee's shoulders, and his hand played lazily over the other man's bicep. Lee reached over to the bread to pull off a fluffy piece and held it to Richard's mouth; he took it, Lee's fingers slipping between his lips and out again slowly. His mouth still tasted of salt, under the hearty taste of the bread, from sucking Lee off while they waited for the bread to cool. There was a great deal of waiting when it came to baking bread, and they'd taken advantage of all of it.

They'd kissed and rutted up against one another, hard and quick while the dough autolyzed, not enough time for anything elaborate, but enough to take the edge off. Letting the dough prove had given them more time, time to take it slow - almost too slow. The way Lee had squirmed and whined, Richard's tongue and fingers deep inside him, wouldn't be leaving his mind anytime soon. He'd made Lee beg in the end, held out until he was falling apart in desperation. Lee'd gotten him back while the bread was baking, though, turned Richard's own games around on him and drawn a third climax out of him that was all the better for its torturous delay. He'd been spent after that, getting too old to keep up with the younger man, although it was not for lack of trying.

Now, legs splayed out in front of him and his body slumped against the counter, Richard felt dazed and exhausted and ecstatic. The only thing keeping him awake and alert was the bread in his hand - certainly not as good as the bread he helped make at the bakery, but a fair enough substitute, especially fresh from the oven. The two of them had already gobbled up an impressive amount, hungry after their exerted efforts.

"I'm not moving from this spot," Richard said slowly, "Ever." His whole body seemed to quake, from his arms to his abs down to his thighs and even his toes, the muscle fibers twitching as if he'd just had a good work-out - well, he had, he supposed, although it was an untraditional - and much more enjoyable - one. " _Ever_ ," he repeated solemnly.

"What do I tell your stage manager when she calls tonight?" Lee asked. He pulled another bite of bread off the loaf, admired it, then popped it into his mouth.

"Tell her I died doing what I love best." Lee laughed, his mouth still full, but somehow it was cute rather than disgusting. Richard loved how Lee laughed at his poor excuses for jokes as though they were the funniest things he'd ever heard. He knew from experience that Lee's friends were far more witty than he could ever be - yet it was Richard who could make Lee double over in glorious laughter. It was one of the many things he treasured about the man.

"Here lies Richard Crispin Armitage," Lee pronounced once he'd swallowed the bread, "Sexed to death. May his dick rest in peace."

"I had a good run. Pity I couldn't make it to opening night." Lee gave Richard a mockingly fierce stare.

"Don't even joke about that!" Lee protested. "I've been dying to see you perform since... shit, since I was _seventeen_." It was still bizarre to think that while Richard's introduction to Lee had only been a few months ago, Lee had known of Richard for far longer, had dreamt of his voice. On those rare occasions when he was reminded of it, it made Richard squirm inside, at the idea of someone hearing his voice and falling in love with it, without ever having met him. He hardly merited that level of importance.

"Not to worry," Richard assured Lee. "I suppose that _perhaps_ I could manage to move again by Friday. If given the right motivation."

"I think I can figure something out," Lee murmured, his voice turned suddenly dark. A flicker of warmth curled somewhere deep in Richard's body. He took the bread from Richard's hand, reached up to return it to the cooling rack on the counter. He leaned in, his lips so near to Richard's, but when Richard leaned in to close the distance between them, Lee moved away, disentangling himself from Richard's arms and standing up. He stretched tall and beautiful above Richard, every bare inch of skin calling out to be touched. Richard's cock stirred.

"Not resting in peace after all, hmm?" Lee said, beckoning, and Richard lurched to his feet. As he reached out to touch Lee, the man backed away again, then took off running toward his bedroom. "It's alive!" Lee called out as he dashed off, and Richard burst out giggling and followed. He thought, then, that he would follow this man anywhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, sorry it took so long to get a new update on this fic! My mind has been taken up by a lot of different pieces in the meantime. Anyhow, this chapter kind of has two AUs in one (bakery AU and theatre AU!) so hopefully it was worth the wait :]
> 
> I'm fairly certain now that there will be a sequel to this (a second season, if you will), so while not much may have seemed to have happened in this chapter, I wanted to take the opportunity to set up a few plot threads for the sequel before moving into the final chapter! So yes, the next chapter will be the last for this fic, but not the last in this universe. Hope you enjoyed this penultimate installment~
> 
> I'm on Tumblr at velcroboyfriends
> 
> P.S. Yes, costumers do spray sweaty clothes with vodka. It kills the bacteria that creates the smell :]


	13. Into Infinity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Opening night of The Secret Garden approaches, and Richard is lost in thought.

There were too many thoughts racing through Richard's head. Final dress had gone well - too well, perhaps, if one was superstitious. Richard liked to think of himself as a rational man, but when it came to the theatre, he was a staunch believer in all the old superstitions: whistling backstage was bad luck, speaking the name of the Scottish play cursed the performance, and a bad final dress meant a good opening night. What a good final dress meant was unclear, but it made him nervous all the same.

Lying in bed made the problem worse, as it reminded him not only that he was worried about his first performance tomorrow, but also reminded him that he couldn't sleep, which didn't exactly _help_ the getting-to-sleep process. Next to him, Lee seemed lost in dreams, breathing heavily with the slight occasional snuffle. His peaceful face was a contrast to Richard's internal panic, which only made him feel more foolish. With regret, he extracted his arm from where it was curled around Lee's back and slipped out of bed.

Richard padded out to the living room and slumped down on the couch, only turning on the little lamp on the table beside it. Lying in the circle of the lamp's light was the little pile of index cards that held all of Richard's cues, the cards that Lee had been quizzing him on earlier that day before rehearsal. Not knowing what else to do, he picked them up and began to go through the stack, muttering to himself.

"For God's sake, Archie," Richard said softly, "The girl's parents are dead. She's traveled... five... six...  _fuck_." He flipped the card to peek, turned it over, started again. "For God's sake, Archie, the girl is dead - no, no." He took a breath. "For God's sake, Archie, the girl's parents are dead. She's traveled six thousand miles to get here. You are her guardian. The least you can do is..." Richard sank his forehead into the palm of his free hand, his elbow resting on his knee. "The least you can do is remember your bloody lines," he muttered to himself.

Richard looked up, not at the cards but at the blank television screen across from the couch. In the dim light, he could only see the silhouette of his reflection, shoulders sagging with exhaustion. He huffed out a sigh, staring straight ahead, then started when he saw movement in the reflection behind him. A cool hand touched his shoulder, and Richard nearly leapt off the couch.

"Jesus," Richard exclaimed, gripping Lee's wrist and turning around. A consequence of the other man's graceful physicality was his uncanny ability to sneak up on anyone. And as Richard had come to know him better, he'd realized that ability fed into Lee's love of pranks - he'd received many an ice cube down the back of his shirt, or worse. This, though, was no prank, and Lee's eyes were full not of laughter but of concern.

"You should be in bed," Lee said softly. "Big day tomorrow."

"Don't remind me," Richard groaned, and Lee crossed around the couch to crowd in next to him. Richard set the index cards back on the lamp table and settled against Lee's side. Lee traced his fingers up and down Richard's back, a calming rhythm. They sat in silence for a bit, the only sounds in the room those of their breathing.

"I was terrified, that first day at the museum," Lee said, his voice resonant even in its quietness.

"You didn't look it." Indeed, Lee had been breathtaking even before Richard had realized how good he was, full of ease and smiles and confidence.

"I've had a lot of practice, not looking like I'm scared. Not looking like I'm... anything."

"You were great, though."

"And you will be, too." Lee twisted sideways on the couch to look solemnly into Richard's eyes. "You're going to be amazing - I know it." He cupped Richard's cheek softly. "Now, come to bed. Go to sleep." Richard shook his head.

"Too many thoughts, I can't..." Lee silenced him with a kiss, long and sweet and slow, one that made his lips tingle.

"I think we can get rid of those," Lee said softly, and pulled Richard into another kiss before reaching down to brush his fingers over the fabric-covered line of Richard's cock. Richard moaned quietly into Lee's mouth. His body responded quickly, cock hardening against Lee's touch. "Just think about this." Lee's hand dipped under the elastic of Richard's boxer briefs, wrapping clever fingers around him. He stroked slowly, softly. Lee's mouth traced a light path down his neck - not enough to mark, not after Richard got scolded - and a rougher one across his clavicle and down, down to his stomach as Lee clambered off the couch and onto his knees in front of it.

Richard let out a long sigh as Lee pulled his cock out and pressed wet, open-mouthed kisses all along its length. He shivered when Lee ran his hand up and down the slick shaft, and tipped his head back, mouth open, when Lee's tongue followed the same trajectory. The man's tongue curled around the head of his cock, then traced back down again, and up and down until Richard was quaking under the hand Lee clasped to his hip. Only then did Lee bring the tip between his lips, just down to the crown, lapping over the slit. Richard watched carefully, memorizing the way Lee's soft lips curved around his cock.

Lee dipped down, and Richard groaned as his cock slipped further into his mouth, then gasped when the man moved up again, following his lips with his hand. As Lee began to move, Richard reached down to clutch the hand on his hip, tightening his grip every time Lee made a particularly clever move with his tongue or sucked in on an upstroke. Below him, Lee looked up, locking eyes with Richard until he could hardly bear the slow intensity of it all. Richard lifted Lee's hand and took three fingers into his mouth, giving them the same treatment Lee was giving his cock. The rumble of Lee's moan vibrated through Richard's flesh.

When Richard let Lee's fingers go with a lewd pop, Lee moved them not back to his hip but lower, to trace around Richard's entrance. Richard hissed in a breath when a finger began to press in, the stretch quickly turning to pleasure. Lee's mouth and hand took on the same unhurried tempo, first one and then two fingers moving in as his mouth sucked upward, and pulling out, crooked and stretching, as his lips slipped down the shaft. Richard was boneless on the couch, his fingers wrapped loosely in Lee's sleep-ruffled hair, his breathing coming fast and shallow.

Lee added a third finger, and Richard's hips arched off the couch entirely, simultaneously pushing his cock deeper into Lee's mouth and impaling himself further on Lee's fingers. Lee kept the same gradual pace, removed his hand from the shaft of Richard's cock to pin his hips down so he could work freely. Richard shuddered when Lee's fingers pressed into the right spot just as he sucked his cheeks inward, increasing the pressure around Richard's cock.

"Get up here," Richard murmured low, gripping Lee's hair harder, "And fuck me." Lee pulled his mouth off Richard's cock with a grin, gave a few more thrusts with his fingers for good measure. As Lee stood, Richard bent forward to strip the man's loose sweatpants from him and take Lee's cock deep in his mouth, just long enough to get it good and wet before he was kicking his underwear off his ankles and urging Lee down to sit on the couch and turning to kneel astride his lap. Lee pulled him into a kiss as Richard reached back to steady Lee's cock and sink down onto it.

The stretch was beautiful as Richard slowly filled himself up, settling down until he was seated fully on Lee's lap, the man's cock fully sheathed within him. Richard rocked back and forth a few times, just enjoying the feeling of Lee inside him. Their mouths stilled against one another, their lips just touching as Richard rolled his hips, making both of them sigh out little simultaneous puffs of air. Lee's arms slid around Richard's torso, wrapping tight and warm around him.

"Oh god, Rich," Lee muttered against his lips as Richard rolled up and down once more, and again, harder this time. He braced his hands on the back of the couch to give him leverage, rising on his knees and falling again, setting a slow tempo. Their foreheads rested together, and they stared into one another's eyes in the dim lamplight as they moved together like one unit, every movement perfectly synchronized. The room was beautifully quiet, like nothing existed apart from them and their panting breaths.

As Richard's muscles began to tire, he crumpled forward onto Lee, who tightened the grip of his arms and guided Richard gently up and down, the man's hips matching the movements. Richard's face rested in the crook of Lee's neck, and he breathed in the heady scent of the man, the smell of his shampoo and soap and, underneath it, something earthy and undefinable that Richard knew no perfumer could ever recreate. He felt surrounded by Lee even as he was filled by him, and it still wasn't close enough.

The change in angle when Richard leaned forward made every stroke of Lee's cock spark inside him, pressed his cock closer between their bodies, and soon he was gasping and sighing and groaning low just the way that made Lee shiver. He knew he could get anything he wanted from the man if he just pitched his voice right. Sure enough, the sounds seemed to spur Lee on to a slightly quicker pace, although their movements still stayed relaxed and loose. Lee mouthed at Richard's jaw, took the lobe of his ear gently between his teeth.

As Richard's breath began to quicken, he surged into motion again, rocking down against Lee's hips in a firm grind that had them both moaning into each other's skin. He moved back just enough to press his forehead to Lee's again, to cup his face with one hand. Lee's eyes were closed, dark lashes fanned out along his cheeks, but when Richard touched his cheek, he looked up, eyes wide and guileless, and smiled gently. He'd never looked so beautiful as he did in this moment, so without artifice or tension. It overwhelmed Richard, sent his heart fluttering in his chest.

"Lee," Richard whispered, and in that one word was all the love he had in his heart, a thousand promises he hoped he could keep. Lee bit his lip and moved a hand up to curl into Richard's hair, pulling him in for a slow, sweet kiss. The press of Lee's cock, the slide of their lips - it was all becoming too much, and Richard could feel it about to bubble over. The hand Lee had on his back moved to wrap around Richard's cock, like he knew exactly what Richard needed, and his whole body arched at the touch.

Slowly, gradually, Richard's world began to narrow, and his climax snuck up on him without him realizing it until he was enveloped in it, his eyes squeezing shut and his muscles tightening. Vaguely he heard Lee whispering into his ear, felt the man's arms wrap tight around him again. As if from a distance, Lee let out a long, almost pained sigh, and Richard was filled with warmth as Lee's cock twitched within him. They were left gasping for breath there on the couch, limbs loose and draped around one another. Richard's mind was utterly, blissfully blank.

"How do you feel?" Lee asked once he'd caught his breath enough to gasp out the words.

"Mmmmph," was all Richard could manage, burying his face in Lee's neck, the skin slick with sweat against his nose.

"That's what I like to hear," Lee said, and squeezed Richard again before urging him to his feet. Sleepily, they made their way to Richard's room, where he collapsed onto the bed. Lee turned to head into the bathroom, and the soothing sound of running water had almost eased Richard into sleep when Lee was back, wiping at Richard's stomach and between his legs with a warm cloth. Lee tossed the thing in the vague direction of Richard's laundry pile, then crawled into bed, settling in to cradle Richard in his arms.

"Thank you," Richard mumbled, turning to press his cheek into Lee's chest. He looked up. "I love you."

"I love you too," Lee whispered, "Love you so much." Richard smiled, pressed closer, and listened to Lee's slow breaths until sleep took him.

\---

"Hey, Richard," Emily said briskly as they passed one another in the hallway to the dressing rooms. "House in five."

"Thank you, five," Richard answered. The woman had the harried look exclusively shown by stage managers on the opening night of their show, a mixture of anxiety, terror and manic delight, her red hair frizzing out of the braid she had it pulled back into. It infected Richard, sent his already-high level of nerves even higher. Halfway to his dressing room, he paused to mark his initials on the sign-in sheet hanging on the wall, and as he lifted the pen, his hand shook, barely able to write coherent letters. He dropped the pen and continued on.

His make-up went on fast - the contouring Rose had him do in order to make Neville look as sour as possible was similar to what he'd always done for Thornton - as did his costume, leaving Richard with an inordinate of time to stand and pace and sit and fidget and page through his script again and again til he was sick with it all, his insides churning. He really was almost sick a few times, had the bin next to him just in case, but when Emily's voice came loud out of the monitor, announcing five to places, his light dinner was still safely in his stomach.

It would have been nice if he'd been the first onstage, he thought, but no - Daniela had that honor, and that relief. Half of him was sure that once he just got _out_ there, he could stop worrying and just do his job, but the other half was dreading how he might muck it all up. Unfortunately, he had a bit more time to sit and stew than most. And he was doing just that when another knock came at his door.

"Come in," he said, and the door opened. It was Dora, the front-of-house manager, peering in - an unlikely sight backstage, especially in the dressing rooms.

"We just closed the house," she said, and Richard arched an eyebrow. Had she come back here just to tell the actors that?

"Thanks," Richard said, and began to turn back around in his chair when Dora pulled a bouquet from behind her back.

"Someone left these for you at the box office," she said, "Your friend who picked up your comp for tonight." Richard shot up from his chair, rushed over to take the flowers from her hands. He couldn't help but to grin madly.

"Thank you," Richard said again, and Dora nodded and slipped back out into the hallway, closing the door behind her. Richard held the flowers to his face - they smelled beautiful. There was a little card sticking out of the bouquet, and he examined it: _Richard. You're going to be amazing tonight - trust me. Break a leg or two for me. x L._ Richard ran his thumb over the card, the endearingly sloppy handwriting.

Just as Richard sat back down at his mirror, the flourish of the opening began, and Daniela's light voice floated out of the monitor in his room. He looked at the flowers as she sang, and realized: _clusters of crocus... blankets of pansies... lilies and roses_ , they were all in the bouquet. He ran his fingers along the petals of a lilac. _Come a lily, come a lilac_. There was heather, too, and snowdrops, every flower mentioned in the show present in this bundle of beauty. His eyes began to prickle as he imagined Lee poring over his script, making notes, just do to this silly, small, wonderful thing.

There was no good vessel for the flowers, so he unscrewed the large cap on his water bottle and shoved the flowers into it. He'd have to go thirsty the whole show, but it was worth it to keep them from wilting even for a moment. He looked at the flowers, and then at his reflection in the mirror, and despite the way Neville's make-up made him look furrowed and pinched, underneath it Richard was glowing with joy.

In the monitor, suddenly, he heard the frantic harmonies of the chorus singing of the house upon the hill - his house, he thought, slipping the smile from his face and curling in on himself. The house his brother was keeping from him, the house his brother didn't even know what to do with. He let Dr. Craven flood into him, becoming him. It was time now. He took a deep, low breath, and he turned to head to stage.

\---

In the wing across from his, Archie - Patrick, really, a man with whom he'd gotten on far better than the brothers they played ever had - stood waiting, a hefty tome of fairy stories in his arms. Richard couldn't see his face, with the dim light and the distance across the stage, but he knew it would already be filled with worry and hesitation. Onstage, Mrs. Medlock - Paula - was waxing poetic about the wuthering of the hills. Their cue was coming fast, and Richard felt his head swim again, his hands shake around the candelabra he clutched within them. He thought seriously about turning around right that moment, walking backstage, wiping off his make-up and heading home.

Then the chorus was singing, and Patrick gave him a nod, and as though moving by the automatic command of some puppeteer, Richard found his legs moving him onto the stage. In the split second before the lights rose on them, he looked out at the house, at the silent mob of strangers _watching_ them. A silent mob of strangers, and one man he loved. He took a deep breath, and felt his face warm as the light came up.

"For God's sake, Archie," he snapped as he moved forward, looking his brother in the eye even as his strides took him to center stage. "The girl's parents are _dead_. She's traveled six thousand miles to get here." He took a step toward Archie, mellowing his tone slightly. "You are her guardian," he reminded his brother. "The least you can do is be here to greet her."

"I can't, Neville," Archie said, his eyes sad and closed-off as his voice. "I wouldn't know what to say." He touched the book lightly, his son's book, the only line of connection he had to the poor child. "I'll be upstairs." He turned on his heel and went. Just as he was clear, Mrs. Medlock came bustling in, with a little girl in tow. One look at the girl, he knew, and Neville was seeing the eyes of her aunt Lily, the eyes of the woman he'd loved, who'd been stolen from him by his brother, like everything else he might have had. He lifted his head scornfully as they greeted him.

"You're to take her to her room," he said to Mrs. Medlock, "He doesn't want to see her." Neville knew now that Archie should _never_ see the girl, that it would bring back too many hardships for him. The woman and the girl disappeared up the stairs, and Richard dissolved backward into the crowd of chorus members taking the stage again, and then he was offstage again, and he was Richard again, breathing hard and bending down to clutch at his knees, steadying himself. Well, he thought, that was one scene down.

\---

The next scene with Archie was a bit more unsteady. Both of them let lines slip from their minds, and although Richard didn't know what was happening for Patrick, he knew that he wasn't fully embedded in the scene in the way he'd have liked to be. The scene was all dialogue, with very little underscoring, and in that silence he could hear the audience, the way they breathed, the way they rustled about and coughed and fiddled.

Their presence could be a blessing, but it could just as easily be a curse, especially when there was one audience member Richard was particularly aware of. When he botched a line, he thought of all the times he'd run lines with Lee, and wondered if the man had noticed. He wondered if he looked a fool up there after so long, in those elaborate clothes. Now he knew how Lee had felt, being watched by him at the museum. It should have been a comfort, but instead it was pressure, too much of it.

The song was next, Richard knew, and he buzzed and trilled and hummed as he waited for his call. He wrang his hands as he paced back and forth in the tiny space of his little dressing room, trying not to stare at his own reflection. He knew he probably looked a mess, harried and nervous with terror in his eyes. At least the audience was too far away to see that terror - he hoped.

His heart stopped as his monitor buzzed, calling him to stage. He took a breath in, brushed his hands across the fall of his coat, then hurried to the wings. Onstage, the lights were dark and brooding, the chorus singing of the storm that was threatening the house. Then the voices subsided, and the orchestra quieted to a soft lull, and Richard's legs took over, walking him to stage left, and the rest of his body took over, and he began to sing.

The notes flowed easily, far easier than they had in any rehearsal, pouring from his mouth. His brain seemed to have shut down, and he was going on pure muscle memory and adrenaline, just _feeling_ the music as it came out of him. Any thoughts of the audience was gone - he thought only of Lily, and the love Neville felt for her. It was easy to channel, when he had a seemingly endless font of his own love to draw upon.

Now it really _was_ a comfort to have Lee in the audience, for as Patrick joined the duet and the song's emotions flooded over them stronger and stronger, Richard was able to channel all that immense, terrifying love and pour it out. It was intimate, almost too intimate to do in front of an audience, but he could feel the way the air in the room stilled as they sang, the way their voices rang together, and he knew that whatever he was doing, it was working.

As their final notes rang out and then gave way to the beautiful ending flourishes of the orchestra, Richard felt his heart pounding, and when the orchestra fell silent, for a moment he could hear it too, in the moment of silence that followed. Then the audience burst into applause, waves of it. Although Richard tried to keep his gaze fixed on his focal point on the fourth wall, out of the corner of his eye he saw a figure rising from its seat - a walk-out? Had he truly been so disappointing?

But as the figure rose to its full height, it was unmistakable, a lanky, tall shape who, if Richard were able to see faces from the brightly-lit stage, would undoubtedly be smiling that sun-shaming smile of his. Richard held steady until the lights dropped, and then he allowed the grin bubbling under the surface to spread across his face. As they exited, Patrick noticed Richard's lovestruck expression and arched an eyebrow, mouthing a 'what?' Richard just shook his head, looking sheepishly down at his feet.

\---

His song over, it was as though the rest of the play flew by in glimpses and flashes: a red handkerchief dropped as an omen; Patrick's stricken expression in the face of Richard's accusations; a passing moment in which Daniela took Richard's hand in the wing, small and warm and comforting; a disgraced final exit; and then - and then the final moment, Daniela's sweet voice ending the play just as she'd begun it, the rest of the cast waiting in the wings for the curtain call. Daniela disappeared, leaving the final tableau of Archie and his new family, and then the lights went down and it was time.

Waiting in the dark of the wings through the bows that preceded his, Richard found his mind lighting up again with thought. He thought of ten years ago, how opening night had felt just like this, exhilarating and exhausting and absolutely terrifyingly wonderful. He thought of how he'd let that feeling go, because it was _easy_ to just wallow in failure and push on with the business of dull living.

He thought of the jealousy he'd had when he'd first met Lee, of how he wanted to hate him for having what Richard had always wanted. And then, when Lee had tried to push him back to this life, it had wounded him, but in a way he needed to make the way himself. This hadn't all been because of Lee - if Richard had wanted to, he could've thrown Lucas' card away and gone back to Dec Arts and watched people for the rest of his days. He could've pushed back.

But it was undeniably true that without that man, Richard's return could've taken longer, could've taken forever. And thinking of how the circumstances had aligned themselves perfectly to send the two of them on paths that crossed, paths that altered each other's trajectory irreversibly, it occurred to Richard that the world truly was a wondrous place, full of random chance encounters that could just as easily change nothing as they could change everything.

Richard couldn't see the audience as he walked on from the wing, bright as the stage lights were. He couldn't see Lee, but he could feel him, that love that sought not to guide or correct him but to support him in whatever he chose to do. That kind of love, Richard thought as he faced the audience, was the kind of love that could span a lifetime, or longer. That kind of love could be returned and reflected, like two mirrors creating an image that stretched on into infinity.

Richard felt that love filling him, and the warmth of the stage lights on his face, and the palpable waves of applause, and he knew that at this moment, he was exactly where he wanted to be.

And he took his bow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's that! I'm sorry it took me so long to get this last chapter out - it was a combination of settling into my new job, having a very catastrophic tech week hit, and also struggling with just how to write the damn thing! I'm still not especially happy with it, but it'll have to do, I think. I've got the next two days off, and a much easier work schedule after we start back up again, plus I've got the sequel pretty well planned-out already, so there'll definitely be the first chapter of that up in the next couple days, with following chapters hopefully going up in pretty close succession.
> 
> So I'll see y'all in the next fic!


End file.
